Seven Years of Unexpected
by penspencils546
Summary: When Rose Weasley marched into his train compartment with a confused Albus, shook his hand, and promptly informed him they were going to be best friends, Scorpius Malfoy realized he had very little choice in the matter. There begins seven years of questioning, astonishing, and transforming the foundations and expectations of the magical world.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling.**

 **Please review if you enjoy!**

* * *

Rose Weasley hated mirrors.

She did not dislike them for the typical reasons of most prepubescent girls, who washed themselves away into obsessions for beauty they craved to possess. She did not concern herself much with that subject (much to the relief of both her father and mother).

She disliked them because she never knew what she was going to see. Who would appear in the likeness of the person who was supposed to be Rose Weasley. She is haunted by ghosts of the lives she has never lived. She is surrounded by shadows of what she is supposed to be. She is barricaded by her own fears that whatever she will be is already someone else. What she wants to be insignificant compared to what they chose to be. And even then, that anything she will do will already have been done. Her passions a repetition of someone else`s fulfilled aspirations. Her life a weak imitation of another's success. She wanted to march into the world, unconcerned of what it thought of her. She wanted to be unapologetically herself, but she had no idea what that was.

She'd laugh heartily, and toss her rugged, russet curls over her shoulder. She delved into the books she savoured like her mother, the legendary Hermione Granger. She felt the knowledge empower her. Sense her heart swell with exhilaration. She soared into the blue on her broom like the rest of her fiery, flaming cousins, drinking the freedom every last one of them sought. She defended not only the posts, but also her team from defeat, and the ones she loved from pain or external abuse. Just like her father; the loyal, brave Ron Weasley. The King. Her words fell fast, and full of passion. Like her mother, her father, Harry, Ginny, and every other aunt and uncle and cousin. But there was more to the outspokenness and stubbornness that wasn't even hers, but her family`s. There was more, and she planned on thoroughly reprimanding it for the time it had taken to show itself. When she found it. Within her. Which she sometimes doubted would ever happen.

* * *

She had been packed for weeks. Two thirds of her trunk had been stuffed with books. She had magically pressed her uniform thirty times over the course of three days. Whereas Albus slowly become more and more silent and withdrawn as September 1st approached, words leaked and gushed from Rose's mouth carelessly. She would be sitting with a random family member and realize after twenty minutes that she had been talking without break for the entire time. Most of them humored her, like Victoire and Teddy and Uncle Charlie. Others would get up and leave after thirty seconds of Rose`s incessant babble (Molly without even lifting her head from her book). Fred remarked that after 15 recitations of Miranda Goshawk's Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, she had brought all social ostracism unto herself.

Lily and Hugo were also uncharacteristically taciturn. They sullenly brooded as Rose vocalized her excitement over anything and everything. The Hogwarts Express, Sorting, classes, grounds, homework (insert snort from James), Quidditch, tea with Hagrid, and even Peeves. She promised letters as thorough as her mother's old notes, which provided them with some amount of consolation.

Rose was also internally relieved that Al would be with her. Born only three days apart, they had been closer than most siblings, sharing everything from adventures to socks to secrets (like when Al and James had accidently set fire to Sirius Black's old motorbike). But any question or remark of Hogwarts would lead Al to either a half hearted nod or a hasty change of the subject. And there were plenty of words to be said about Hogwarts.

"Before you're sorted, they make you fight a Hungarian Horntail! Tell 'em Fred!"

"No! They make you spend a night in the Chamber of Secrets…with the dead body of the Basilisk…"

"The Chamber of Secrets? Pfff… more like the Forbidden Forest! With Giant. Hairy. Spiders. _Massive, bushy_ _spiders_."

"…"

"AUNT GINNY!"

They shut up very quickly. But Al had turned very pale.

But they were finally here. King's Cross. Platform 9 and ¾. _Finally_. After years of watching every Weasley cousin climb aboard the Hogwarts express, they were _finally_ doing it themselves. A myriad of sounds surrounded her; mothers reprimanding, eager giggles and squeals and attempted spells gone wrong. Arguing and bickering. Owls, cats and even an occasional toad. The screech of the train upon the tracks. And of course, her mum and dad.

"See! See Hermione! I parked _just fine_. Just admit it- I can drive a car. I, Ronald Bilius Weasley, am an amazing driver. I passed the test without _any help_ from magic. So there. Admit it- you were wrong. The Great Hermione Granger was _wrong_!"

"Ron, I didn't expect anything less from you."

"That's what you _say_. But I can tell- you were sure I would confound the examiner. But I didn't! Admit it- you thought I would, but I _didn't_!

"Ron, the fact that you keep reminding me you didn't confound the muggle examiner, when I never believed you did, makes me a little suspicious."

Ron gasped, and quickly made more assertions of his innocence Hermione probably knew weren't true. They continued ahead with Hugo, bantering and berating over nothing with smiles on their faces. Rose giggled, closing her eyes and inhaling the scents of lingering rain, smoke and her new robes. Of anticipation. After savouring the few moments of calm, she hastened after her family to the sea of ginger.

* * *

The goodbyes were always a blur. Kissing and hugging all the aunts, uncles, and the surrogate family members did not even comprehend itself in Rose's mind.

"Knock 'em dead Rosie!"

"Put all that reading and cleverness to use!"

"Make us proud!"

"Follow in your mother's footsteps!"

"Remember to follow zee rules."

"You don't need to remind _her_ mum."

"Kick Slytherin butt on the Quidditch Pitch! _Or in a duel after curfew…"_

"We don't know if she'll be in Gryffindor!"

"Yes Hermione, we do."

"No dueling! Or any fighting! Or anything after curfew! Be nice to all the kids, and study hard, and-"

"Lighten up Hermione! After all, she's _your_ daughter. She'll be fine!"

"Oh my baby! My baby's going to Hogwarts! Just yesterday she was making a petition for Gnome Rights!"

"Yeah, that's when Angelina and I were beginning to think she had inherited Ron's brains."

"Hey!"

Rose laughed and nodded and hugged. Her stomach ached with excitement. But when she reached her dad's arms, she melted. He whispered into her ear, so only she could hear him.

"We're both _so_ proud of you. Whatever you choose to be and wherever you are." She pulled away from his warm embrace to look into the beautiful blue eyes she had inherited from him. Ron Weasley joked to keep smiles on everyone's faces and protected them from harm with every weapon he had. There was nothing that ever scared Rose when her father was with her. When he made her laugh, spun her in circles, lighting up the room with his crooked goofy grin, anything bad occurring in her life vaporized into nothing. No force of evil was powerful enough to overpower the genuine honesty and happiness Ron Weasley cradled everyone he loved in.

He leaned in, so their noses were softly brushing against each other. His eyes were glimmering with mischievous softness.

"Duel any git that thinks he can insult you, but only if you're sure you won't be caught. Be a know-it-all, especially when a teacher's there and no one can say anything against it. If a boy looks a little too friendly, just write to us pronto and Harry and I will be there to straighten him out. If that boy is Scorpius Malfoy, or Zacharias Smith Number 2, but mostly Scorpius Malfoy, we'll bring the entire Auror department with us." Rose rolled her eyes and patted his cheek.

"Will do Daddy. I'll be bringing him over for Christmas."

"I really hope you're joking." But he encircled her in another fierce hug. Her mother shoved about forty reminders into Rose's ears when she gave her final hug. And then her second final hug. And the third final hug. Rose felt a pang echo in her heart, knowing it would be some time before she would smell her mother's fragrance (cinnamon and parchment). And she would have to rely on letters to receive the advice Hermione was well-known for.

That's when she saw Scorpius Malfoy.

Cue internal dramatic gasps.

His back was raised into stiff, upright position. His face was an impenetrable mask of stone. He did not possess the same self-assured presumptuous airs her father had described in great detail. His mother was tenderly smoothing back his soft, fair hair. It was lacking the gel that was frozen against his father's hairline. Rose began noting the obscure mannerisms that deviated from what she had been raised to believe of the Malfoy family.

Like his mother and father, he seemed unaware and unconcerned of the dirty glares and he was being given by random wizards and witches passing by. Even children dressed in Hogwarts robes were sniggering and snorting at the sight of the infamous, degraded family. But his bony fists were tightly clenched against his trunk cart. His lips were pursed, stretched tight over his chiseled jawline. Rose felt that his two layers of teeth were clamped tightly together beneath the layer of chalky epidermis. A conversation was being held in hushed tones between the three. His parents appeared tense and apprehensive. They continually reached over, lightly touching different parts of his body. His shoulder. His forehead. His cheek. She couldn't catch sight of the expression in his eyes. But she wondered.

Who was Scorpius Malfoy? Did he even know himself? Was he stumbling in the mist in search of what that was, similar to Rose? Just like Al, Hugo, and every other Potter-Weasley cousin?

That's when she made her decision.

She was going to be best friends with Scorpius Malfoy.

"What are you thinking?" Al breathed timidly into her ear, once they had disconnected themselves from the line of goodbyes.

 _Oh, if he knew…_

Rose smirked. "You'll see."


	2. Chapter 2

**For those of you that reviewed my last chapter, thank you so much! They mean so much to me and are very encouraging when I'm having trouble writing. Also, thank you to anybody else who read my story. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

Al bounded unto the train a few minutes after Rose with a newfound burst of energy. His eyes danced with animated exhilaration. His cheeks were flushed with excitement.

"We're going to Hogwarts!" He squealed, leaping from foot to foot. He grabbed Rose's hand with both of his, shaking it vigorously.

"Finally realized?" Rose replied sardonically with a slight smirk. Al blushed.

"Let's find a compartment. James and Fred were talking about dropping dung bombs in the corridor sometime in the middle of the ride. Fred said something about getting yelled at by Sara. James said that was why they were doing it. So what house are you hoping for? I've been doing some thinking, and I think Slytherin wouldn't be so bad… in fact, I might prefer it! Can you imagine- being the first Potter-Weasley in Slytherin! Imagine James's face! Uncle George would have a field day!"

Rose nodded her head absent-mindedly, peeking into the compartments as they passed them. She had a long, determined stride, and Al had to jog slightly to keep up, stumbling as he attempted to get her attention.

"Uh, Rose…there was an empty one back there…"

"Hmm?" Rose craned her neck, "Yes, I noticed."

"And another one… Are we looking for someone? 'Cause I think James meant it when he said we would wake up upside down from the ceiling if we bothered him or his friends…Rose slow down! I feel like your dad trying to get your mum's attention in a library…Rose what are you — Gah!"

Rose had come to a screeching, sudden stop. Al tumbled into her, muttering incoherent curses under his breath.

"Rose!" Annoyance colored his cheeks. Rose paid him no heed. She was fixated upon the hazy silhouette of a blonde boy in the otherwise empty compartment, so pale he seemed to be fading into the light of the window. He had an open book positioned on his knees, but he was gazing forlornly into hills. Rose felt a pang of sympathy. Obviously, no one wanted to sit with the Malfoy. Rose squared her shoulders and raised her chin. Ignoring Al's protests, she yanked the door open and marched in.

Scorpius Malfoy started, his eyes widening. He instinctively tightened his hands around his book. His eyes were faint clouds melting into rain, alight with mistrust and uncertainty.

"Hello! You're Scorpius Malfoy," Rose informed him as she dropped herself into the seat in front of the blonde boy. She leaned over and grabbed his hand that he had curled protectively to his side. She had a powerful grip and she shook it vigorously, raising her chin thoughtfully as she did so. "This is Al." She gestured towards him with her head. Al tentatively lingered behind the open door, bemused. Scorpius raised his eyebrows.

"Hello…" He slowly responded, carefully detaching his hand from hers and shifting away. Rose was undeterred.

"I'm Rose Weasley. We're going to be best friends." Al tripped over the entryway. Scorpius's head snapped up. Both of their eyes grew wide.

"Excuse me?" They yelped in unison. They whipped their necks to face each other, momentarily in agreement that the daughter of Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley had lost her mind. Albus then doubted if she had ever possessed one.

Rose was already digging into the backpack she brought with her unto the train, pulling out a copy of _Little Women_. "Just thought you'd both like to know."

"You're a Potter." Scorpius pointed to Albus. "You're a Weasley." He moved his finger to Rose, who had already begun reading. "Not just any Weasley. _Ron Weasley's_ daughter."

"Your dad told us to avoid him! He told you to beat him on every test!" Al flapped his arms with energy.

"I will beat him on every test." Rose stated calmly.

"Excuse me!" Scorpius was affronted. "You can try!"

"Don't think I'll even need to." Rose flipped a page casually. Scorpius dropped his hands to his side, gawking at her.

"I told _my_ dad I'd beat _you_ on every test!"

"Funny, you didn't strike me as a liar."

"What else did your dad tell you about us?" Albus was curious. Scorpius was suddenly self-conscious, glancing downwards.

"He said your parents were heroes. That they were brave, righteous, and loyal. That their kids would probably be too. And that I should probably avoid you." Al was quiet. Scorpius looked to Rose. Then to Albus, who appeared to be reflecting pensively. Then back to Rose. To Albus. To Rose.

"Is this some kind of joke? Because I don't find it very funny." The words leapt crisply from his pale, stiff lips. His eyes, swirling storm clouds, had hardened into faint gray stone.

Albus's emerald eyes shimmered with mirth. Having grown up with the soon to be infamous Rose Weasley, he had become used to her sudden decisions and stubbornness regarding them. He had learned to find amusement in them as soon as possible. He was attempting to snicker discreetly into his hand. "It's not a joke. But you have to admit, it's pretty dang hilarious."

Rose was not similarly amused. Irritation crept across the crease in her brow.

"You think we`re making fun of you?" Her words slipped from pursed mouth. "What do you take us for?"

Scorpius gaped. "What do I take you for? The children of my father's worst enemies in school, who he was sure would either want nothing to do with me or find pleasure in humiliating me, want to exchange friendship bracelets? What else are you hoping for? Harry Potter and Ron Weasley singing Celestina Warbeck to the Minister? Witch Weekly voting my dad most charming smile?"

Albus pathetically attempted to transform his guffaw into a cough. The result was a rough, mangled laugh. One that often burned in the throats of irredeemable alcoholics. Rose hurled a vicious glare in his direction.

"For your information _Scorpius Malfoy_ , I mean what I say. And I don't go back on my word. You'll learn that eventually." She snapped her book shut. "Now I'm going to leave for a bit to find Roxanne. She wanted to introduce me to someone. When I get back, I expect you to be friends. You might as well try, because you're going to have to eventually. And you don't have much of a choice!" She fixed them both with a ferocious glare, before stomping out. She pushed Al unto the seat on the way out.

They sat in silence for a couple seconds.

"Our dads have already sung Celestina Warbeck in front of the minister." Al chirped cheerily as he threw his arms behind his head, tossing his legs upon the rest of his seat. "Kingsley Shacklebolt. When he was over at the Burrow last Christmas. My brother spiked their pumpkin juice. Professor Longbottom's too."

Scorpius stared.

"Him and Fred. They're a year above us. So what's your favorite Quidditch team? Mine's Puddlemere. 'Cept when my mum's in the room. Then it's the Harpies. When Uncle Ron's in the room, I just pretend I never liked Quidditch in the first place. Anything's better than pretending to be a Cannons fan."

Scorpius slowly shook his head, marveling at the universe`s inability to make a shred of sense.

* * *

"Hey Rose!" Louis called, extending his head from his compartment. His silky blond hair swept over his creamy forehead. Entering fourth year, and a Ravenclaw, he was already a Hogwarts heartthrob among boys and girls alike. He flashed her a charming smile that made two thirteen year old girls passing by Rose towards the bathroom giggle hysterically.

He was sitting with Dominique and an assortment of friends that were all teasing, laughing, and yelling at each other. He had to speak above the noise.

Victoire was entering her seventh year of Hogwarts as Head Girl (she was probably at the meeting). She was also a proud Ravenclaw, and the most stunning, ravishing, beautiful female to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts. She had soft, light strawberry blond hair, flowing down her back. It could be described as Fleur Delacour's hair caught in the sunrise. A light pink that was so natural and effortless that every single girl in her year had immediately despised and excluded her. Boys were too busy staring after her to even attempt to pay attention to her words. She appeared completely unaffected by it all. Rose was almost certain it was a lie, but most had no trouble believing it. This was mainly because Victoire didn't seem to need anyone when Teddy was there.

Teddy and Victoire had been best friends for as long as they could remember. It didn't change when Teddy left for Hogwarts and was sorted into Gryffindor. They would always pick up right where they left off. Talking until two in the morning, defending each other against anybody. Victoire followed the rules religiously, but Teddy had a mischievous side and was the only one who could convince her to participate in his occasional practical jokes. They were never discovered- a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw were an unbeatable combination. Two years ago, a couple weeks before he graduated, they became a couple. It was recorded that over 5 years about 647 galleons worth of bets had been exchanged in Hogwarts over them. They were the power couple of the Daily Prophet, and everyone believed they were perfection. Victoire was sensitive and kind, and the default babysitter along with Teddy for all the cousins as they grew from diapers to Hogwarts robes. She radiated a silent power- an unquestioned strength coupled with her Veela charm. Victoire and Teddy appeared to be infallible, so Rose guessed they were hiding many insecurities, pains, and fears behind their golden shells.

Where Victoire was pure, elegant, and graceful, Dominique was vibrant, vigorous, and spirited. She was color where Victoire was white. She was entering her fifth year of Hogwarts and was a Gryffindor to the bone. She had also, to the pride of her father Bill, been appointed Quidditch Captain in only fourth year. Her hair shone the brightest of all the cousins. Like lush streams of smoldering sunlight. It was sharply cut at her jawline. She had freckles filling her cheeks and nose, and a muscled body she had earned from hours upon her broom beating bludgers, waking up earlier and going to bed later than anyone else. She was tough on her teammates but fair. Fierce, but people respected and trusted her. She had high standards for herself and others, and Rose had realized that standards were something which people would always find a way of meeting if they wanted to. She said what she said and knew who she was. People forgot how beautiful she was when they saw Victoire, but they could never forget her.

"Where's Al? Did James and Fred ditch you? What about Roxanne? Do you want to come sit with us?"

"No, that's fine." Rose smiled. "We're already sitting with our new friend."

"That's great!" Louis beamed, "What's their name?"

"Scorpius Malfoy." The smile on his face fell faster than Aunt Ginny's when she received a letter about James's latest exploits.

"Malfoy? Is he bothering you?" His voice dipped several octaves. He began rolling up his sleeves. Rose snorted.

"No, but these questions are beginning to." She placed her hands on her hips, miffed. "And these assumptions." She muttered. She spun on her heel, leaving him to goggle after her.

* * *

"Anything from the trolley boys?"

The plump lady smiled hesitantly, her eyes lingering upon Albus's wiry frame. He was occupied with smacking his wand against a picture in a muggle book Hermione had given him, attempting to make it move. Scorpius was fervently staring out the window. When her gaze drifted to Scorpius her smile soured, twisting into pained disgust she veiled in unconvincing cheeriness.

"Are you lost dear?" Albus flinched, shaken out of his reverie. He raised his head, befuddled.

"Isn't this the train going to Hogwarts?" He looked momentarily alarmed, before realizing he was being absolutely stupid. The lady giggled uneasily, glancing again at Scorpius's hunched frame.

"I'm holding him hostage." Scorpius examined his fingernails evenly. His tone remained unaltered. "I'm hoping to get a ransom from his family." The woman looked horrified. Al snickered.

"We'll take four packages of Bernie Botts Every Flavour Beans, twenty chocolate frogs, and a couple licorice wands." Albus told her, cheeks dimpling. Scorpius looked ready to argue when Albus revealed several golden coins, before offering a weak smile.

They broke into the chocolates with zeal. They took turns trying Every Flavour Beans, bursting into peals of laughter at each other's faces when they consumed particularly atrocious flavours.

"So your cousin…Rose, right?"

"Yeah, that's her."

"She's insane."

"Absolutely barmy."

"Mental."

"Bonkers."

"Off her rocker."

"There's no way we could be friends!"

"Definitely not."

"So let me tell you about the time she dressed up as a gnome and refused to leave the garden…"

* * *

 **What characters are you hoping to see? What houses do you hope they will be sorted into? What Celestina Warbeck song do you think Ron, Harry, and Neville sang to Kingsley? How long do you think James was grounded? I'd love to hear what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to everyone who followed, reviewed, and favorited this story! It means so much! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

James took great pleasure and pride in being an exasperating, irksome prat. Rose could not for the life of her understand why. She only wanted to talk to Roxanne.

Right now, he was grinning imperiously, with an unjustified superiority filling his boastful face. He stood in the doorway, blocking her entry, taking great satisfaction from Rose's growing frustration.

"I already told my fool of a brother. You can't sit with us." Rose snorted.

"Am I supposed to be disappointed?" Her tone was sharp and caustic.

"You should be." A voice rang from behind her. Rose and James turned towards the figure with crossed arms and a bold face. "You just missed an excellent opportunity to watch James Potter make a fool of himself over fifty times in an hour." Thick streams of dark brown hair spilled down her back. Melted chocolate danced in her fierce, delighted eyes. She tilted her head. "But then again, it's not exactly a rare occurrence."

"Sara!" Roxanne squealed, leaping from her seat in the compartment. She pushed a disgruntled James aside, into the frame of the doorway. She pronounced it as _Saa-raa_. Sara smirked. James narrowed his eyes, wrinkling his nose. He crossed his arms, mirroring her stance.

Fred gave an impish grin. He leaned forward. "Sara's here. James's here. Let`s hope the train doesn't burn down from this encounter." The other boys and girls began snickering among each other.

"Look Rose!" James shook Rose's arm, without taking his eyes of Sara's sardonic gaze. "There's an annoying, irritating know-it- all who nobody likes! It can only be Her Highness, Sara Barjati!"

"Don't look Roxanne!" Sara shook Roxanne's arm. "Looking at James Potter's face often results in nausea, vomiting and loss of your voice due to the shock that someone really can be too stupid for words."

"Please. People are dying to see this face. People take pictures of this face and hang it on their walls. People wish they had faces like mine." Sara and Rose exchanged a doubtful look.

"Maybe antisocial Slytherins who want to make Gryffindors run away in fear."

"You're just jealous you'll never be as beautiful or desirable as me."

"Only those desperate to meet your daddy would put up with you." Sara waved to the other people in the compartment. They looked away, embarrassed.

"Whereas not even a thousand galleons would tempt anyone to spend more than a minute in _your_ presence."

Sara Barjati had quickly become very famous in the Potter-Weasley household. She had become famous even faster at Hogwarts. She was a muggle-born girl, whose parents were both from India. She was at the top of her class, stubborn, and had a fierce outspokenness and a love for sarcasm. She was an avid reader, a proud feminist, and had a passion for all kinds of social justice. But she distanced herself. While an entertaining conversationalist, she preferred to remain alone, and stopped herself from forming emotional connections. When you looked at her, you could see she was thinking a million things, but you knew you would never be granted access to them. There was a veiled sadness in her eyes, as if she had seen things she hadn't wanted to. She was wise, and spent more time contemplating deep questions of human morality than caring about how she looked. That made her less appealing to most of the other girls (notably Jenna Finnigan).

She had unfortunately on her first train ride sat in James and Fred's compartment. There were four other boys and girls, fawning over them in a way they very much enjoyed. She had been tightly gripping her thick novel, blushing and glancing downwards self-consciously. She talked softly and sweetly (James would later believe that he had imagined it). James and Fred had immediately decided she would be an easy target, and James was quick to pin her as a future Hufflepuff. After insulting her quite a few times, mocking her in front of the other admiring faces, and taunting her for ten minutes, Sara snapped her book shut. She grabbed her bag, marched in front of him, and smacked him across his cocky face with the hardcover book. His glasses were knocked off. Caught off guard, he also tumbled off his seat. He lay there, stupidly confused as she walked out without a word. Soon the entire train knew about it. James's pride was mortified, even more so when she was sorted into Gryffindor (after he told all his friends she was too spineless to be). Even though he bragged often, he was an energetic, cheerful boy, who did care for other people. He was kind to everyone, making them laugh. But Sara irritated him in a way no one else did. A couple weeks into the year, in front of the entire Great Hall, he called her weak and pathetic. He imitated the way her hand shot up in class and said she didn't belong in Gryffindor. Sara stood up, looked him in the eye, and told him all the reasons she belonged there and he didn't. She gave him a verbal lashing that stole all the words from his mouth and left the school very impressed. She gained a lasting reputation as more than just a smart, independent Gryffindor.

It had been a big deal at the time. After a few days, the shouting matches and clever exchange of insults became a regular occurrence. She was one of the few people, aside from the rest of the family, who was unwilling to pet James Potter's ego. To go a step further, she was unafraid to tell him exactly where he stood in her regard. And it was not very high. She admired some of his traits, but they were mostly obscured by his conceited narcissism and chronic boasting over the dumbest parts of his personality. He didn't put in much of an effort, but still received high marks (but less than hers). Sara, who believed in hard work and dedication above all else, found this unpardonable. Everyone knew he would soon be one of the best fliers in the school (brilliant and only entering second year), but considering he wouldn't let anyone forget it, Sara was never eager to give him much credit. The rest of the school was falling over their feet to do it.

Roxanne giggled.

"Rose, this is Sara Barjati. Sara, this is Rose Weasley." Roxanne was dark-skinned like Angelina (who most would remember was black). Fred, her twin, was more light-skinned. She took great enjoyment in working with her kinky hair, finding fashionable, sophisticated clothes, and dressing up everyone around her. She loved making people feel more beautiful. It was power in itself. That didn't make her any less strong than anyone else. She adored her femininity, and she loved being a Gryffindor. She didn't like being underestimated. Fred was the more well-known prankster, but Roxanne had received a fair share of her father`s genes. She was completely capable of pulling a prank that would be talked about for weeks, even months. And she was smart enough not to get caught (James and Fred seemed to purposely plan getting caught). Roxanne respected and admired Sara (despite their differences). And Roxanne refused to completely let go when Sara tried to withdraw (sometimes purposely, sometimes subconsciously). That meant a lot to Sara, who had never had many friends before Hogwarts.

"Hi Rose! I've been so excited to meet you! Roxanne has told me a lot of amazing things about you." Sara gave a wide, genuine smile. Rose realized Sara had a beautiful smile. She lightly colored.

"I doubt it compares to all the incredible things I've heard about you. You're very popular in the Potter-Weasley household. I've been waiting to meet you all year!" Sara looked ready to argue over the praise she received.

"I can hardly see why." James scoffed.

"Kind of like how we can barely see anything behind your big head." Sara retaliated. Rose began to laugh.

"You can sit with us Rose." Roxanne added. "Sara and I will find another compartment, away from these losers."

"No, that's fine. Al and I are sitting with our new friend Scorpius."

Rose was getting tired of the surprised looks every time she told somebody. Hadn't they learned to expect the unexpected from her by now?

"What! You can`t sit with him!" Rose`s eyes flashed dangerously.

"And why not?" Her voice was deadly quiet. "Don't think I actually care about your opinion James."

"He's a Malfoy!" James believed he was responsible for all his younger siblings and cousins, but only when he wanted to be a prat. Rose inhaled sharply. She prepared to begin yelling at him, but Sara beat her to it.

"Well you're an egotistical prat, and you actually take pride in it, but we still forgive you." Sara quipped. "And he's _Scorpius_ Malfoy, not _Draco_ Malfoy. He's his own person." Sara looked back to a gratified Rose. "Tell him I think he's very brave, and very courageous. You too. It takes strength to be who you are and do what you want."

Rose already loved Sara.

* * *

It had turned out better than Rose had expected.

Chocolate frog wrappers and empty Bernie Botts Every Flavour Beans boxes lay littered over the seats. They were debating with great energy whether Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy or Albus Severus Potter was a worse name to have. Scorpius smothered a laugh when he saw her. He exchanged a knowing look with Al, who was avoiding Rose's questioning gaze.

"I don't even want to know what Al told you about me." Scorpius stopped trying to hold back his laugh. He had a warm, affectionate laugh.

"Only good things." His eyes twinkled in a way Draco's never had for the first seventeen years of his life.

"That's a matter of opinion." Al muttered. Rose attempted to glare, but quickly fell into the boys' laughter.

* * *

"Firs' Years! Right this way!"

Rose squealed. She dashed towards a voluminous, towering leviathan with a lantern in his hand. She extended her tiny arms against his wide stomach. Scorpius thought that this was the signal that their friendship was coming to an end. Rose and Al had their real lives, their real friends to return to. He ignored the wave of disappoint he felt. He began to turn away, but Al grabbed his arm.

"Fancy finding a boat?" He asked casually. Scorpius attempted to force a sound out of his parched throat.

"Come on, we'll introduce you to Hagrid." Al began pulling him towards the thick pillar of hair. "He's great. But it might be better if you don't bring up Hippogriffs in front of him."

Rose grabbed his arm and linked it with hers.

"Hagrid," Rose's eyes gleamed mischievously, "I would like you to meet our friend, Scorpius."

Scorpius glanced upwards shyly. He had to crane his neck to catch sight of the giant's nonplussed face. But Hagrid had kind, compassionate eyes.

"Hello." Scorpius uttered softly.

Hagrid blinked.

"Malfoy's boy?" Hagrid's bushy eyebrows disappeared into his shaggy mane of hair. He looked back to Rose. "Ron an' Harry okay with this?"

"Probably not." Rose admitted cheerfully, while yanking Al and Scorpius into the nearest boat.

Scorpius began to say something, but then he saw the castle. It was the most breath taking sight. The spirals of stone soared upwards into the shimmering stars. The castle's reflection danced upon the sheet of water, which shone under the light of the moon.

* * *

 _"_ _Malfoy, Scorpius."_

The entire Great Hall fell into silence. Hundreds of heads whipped upward from their conversations to stare in shock. Their eyes burned into his back as he slowly trudged to the stool. They were distrustful, angry, perplexed, curious. Buzzing erupted among the students.

"I can't believe they let him in." A fourth year Gryffindor spat.

"What were they thinking?" A mousy haired, second year Hufflepuff girl muttered.

"After everything those people have done." A professor was shaking her head from the teacher's table.

"We won't let him in our house." A seventh year Ravenclaw puffed out his chest.

"Traitorous villains. They're the reason the Dark Lord fell." The Slytherin table glared at him.

Scorpius felt waves of shame erupt in his chest. He raised his chin, donning the Malfoy façade of disinterest. But his hands shook. He buried them in fists out of sight.

 _I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die I'mgoingtodieI'mgoingtodiewhywhywhyWHY?_

That was a good question.

Why?

He had been born into a conflict extending back centuries. He had received what had been passed down for generations. He had inherited the blame and the punishment that had accumulated over decades.

Who were these people? Not just the students of Hogwarts, who wore their hatred for him like a fashionable perfume. Who couldn't remember the reasons but didn't feel they needed them anyway. It was the witches and wizards, with children the same age as him, walking down Diagon Alley, glowering at him. The old matriarchs and patriarchs, with grandchildren running at their heels. Who'd lost parents and friends and people they held dear. The people who had witnessed all the terrible things that hatred could do and had done. Shouldn't they have known better? Didn't they?

But no, they needed someone to blame. And if it was easiest to blame an eleven year old boy with pale skin and a smirk they were sure was on his face, then they would. He wasn't a person to them. Not really. He was simply an abstract representation of what they hated. And so they felt no guilt. And Scorpius let them believe what they wanted to believe.

After the final Battle, Harry Potter, with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger behind him, had stood up before the entire Wizengamot to assert that Draco Malfoy and his mother were innocent and deserved no punishment. He won. They were allowed to return to Malfoy Manor, while Lucius was thrown into Azkaban for life. Draco and Harry exchanged a few terse words afterwards. Scorpius's father attempted to thank him. Harry said he did not need to give it. They shuffled from foot to foot, embarrassed. Then they went on with their lives. But ¾ of the wizarding world had been incensed. Harry Potter could not prevent Ministry officials from searching the Manor from top to bottom. Priceless possessions and antiques that had been in the family for centuries were carted off. The Malfoys lost most of their wealth. They had to start over again.

The witch dropped the Sorting Hat upon his head, but didn't remove her hand from it. As if she already knew. That it would only take the hat seconds to see Slytherin. As if she already knew who Scorpius was, and who he was going to be. The friends he would have, the things he would say. His life was laid out before her eyes.

And what reason did she have to believe any different? Hadn't it been this way for hundreds and hundreds of years? Who was Scorpius to be any different? Who was he to even believe he could be different?

 _'_ _Most interesting…'_ Scorpius could hear a simper in the voice of the hat. ' _Now the question is… Are you willing to take the chance, and make a choice? To be different? To be yourself?'_

Scorpius pondered the question. It would be so much easier to be what they expected him to be. Be sorted into Slytherin. His reputation would be sealed. It would be easier for everyone. Nothing would have to change. But easy was something Scorpius was never meant to have.

 _'_ _Yes.'_ Scorpius declared. _'I am. I'm terrified, but I am. I will. Regardless of where you put me.'_

Scorpius caught sight of Rose and Albus, among the line of unsorted first years. Albus was holding his breathe like the rest of the Hall, when Scorpius hadn`t been sorted in the first minute. But Rose was smiling brightly. Either she felt she knew what the outcome would be, or it didn't matter to her anyway. Scorpius couldn't explain it, but he knew it was the latter.

Scorpius didn't want to be scared anymore. People would hate him regardless. Change would come regardless. What good would it do the world for him to be anyone but himself?

"GRYFFINDOR!" That was the hat's reply.

Then.

There.

Hundreds of years of tradition, pureblood supremacy, hatred and bigotry came crashing down in a single moment. Scorpius wondered how many of his ancestors were rolling in their graves.

 _'_ _Good luck Scorpius.'_ The Hat whispered as he slid off the stool.

No one spoke.

* * *

 **Tell me what you thought! What did you like? What didn't you like? How was Sara? What do you think's going to happen? What do you want to happen?**

 **Quote: Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go. ~ T.S. Eliot**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, or followed my story! I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter, and I hope you'll enjoy this one!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

No one spoke. No one cheered. No one clapped. No one screamed in outrage. Everyone was staring, dumbstruck.

Except Rose. She began clapping wildly. She cheered thunderously with all her heart. She called Scorpius's name and waved aggressively, as if she was scared he wouldn't be able to hear her amid the dead silence. A couple seconds later, Al joined in, blinking his eyes rapidly. Sara quickly began clapping eagerly from the Gryffindor table, along with a few others. She elbowed Roxanne and hissed at the others around her, but they could only shake their heads in astonishment. Most of the school couldn't decide which was more surprising. A Malfoy in Gryffindor, or that a Potter and a Weasley were the only ones happy about it. Professor Longbottom began clapping enthusiastically from the teacher's table. Some of the other professors half-heartedly attempted to start an applause, but that soon trickled away.

Scorpius did not realize when he had taken off the hat, slipped off the stool, and made his way to the table. Sara pushed people aside to make room for him. She glared at James, who was gaping at Scorpius, open-mouthed. When he sat down, Sara squeezed his arm and whispered, "Nice job!", but it rang like a shout into the silent room. The others around him shrunk away, as if his touch would be acid on their skin.

The witch at the front soon forced herself to once again look down at her parchment of names. It took her a couple minutes to gather her voice. The next name struggled from her lips in a croak. No one paid much attention to the sorting after that, and the cheers, while mighty, ended abruptly and had a distracted air to them.

 _"_ _Potter, Albus."_

The entire room inhaled. The hall was holding its breath. They all feared another surprise.

Al proudly marched to the stool. A few seconds after the hat was placed on his head, he looked alarmed. He shook his head violently, almost knocking the ratty piece of fabric off his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, mouthing words under his breath ferociously. This went on for four minutes. Then he assumed a momentary look of disgust before nodding. The students all exchanged fearful looks, expecting the worst. Everyone braced themselves, expecting to hear Slytherin.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The room exploded. James exhaled loudly, wiping his forehead in relief. Everyone was screaming, laughing, shoving each other and tossing insults, finding it hilarious that they for a second doubted the outcome.

Al leaped off the stool and sauntered towards the Gryffindor table, ignoring the many offers from strangers for him to sit with them. He threw himself on the spot beside Scorpius, throwing his arm casually around him. Scorpius, this time, was more entertained by the shock than perturbed. Scorpius realized that this was the first time he had felt the strength and power having a friend could give you. It didn't matter who was against him. Al was at his side, and so was Rose, wherever she was sorted. Scorpius couldn't imagine something as small as different houses stopping the hurricane that was Rose Weasley.

"I begged the hat for Slytherin." Al muttered so only Scorpius could hear. "Pathetic piece of cloth refused. Said I had about as much Slytherin in me as Ron Weasley." Al shrugged.

"Can't say I'm surprised." Scorpius whispered back. "We could pretty much see your every thought while you were up there. You don't have a drop of deception in your blood." Al scrunched up his nose, but then nodded in agreement.

More students were sorted. The cheers for them were much livelier now. Finally, the second last name was called.

 _"_ _Weasley, Rose."_

The entire affair took less than a minute. Rose went from the sorting hat to the Gryffindor table so quickly most people missed it when they blinked. She planted herself firmly on Scorpius's opposite side. She and Sara began laughing about something with each. The last first year, Porter Zimmerman, was sorted into Hufflepuff.

The current Headmistress, Andrea Stonebrooke, stood and gave a few warm words of welcome and knowing looks to Fred and James with the regular off-limit reminders. She was a younger black woman of thirty-seven, that many made the mistake of underestimating. She had just graduated from Ravenclaw, after the war she and her younger sister had fought in. Her younger sister had not survived. She assumed the post of Transfiguration teacher after McGonagall was officially appointed Headmistress. There was some muttering when she was appointed Deputy at just thirty-two, after Flitwick retired. But Professor Stonebrooke rose to the responsibility with calm, unflinching resoluteness. It was no doubt her astounding capabilities that gave Professor McGonagall the security and strength she needed to finally retire from what she considered her home, being the last of the older generation of teachers to do so (minus Professor Slughorn who felt he was paying off a debt for the information on horcruxes he had once given Tom Riddle, and Professor Binns who probably never realized he had actually died anyway). Professor Stonebrooke did not look as severe as Professor McGonagall, and had an aura of even-tempered composition. But while Gryffindors felt a need to take out their enemies with pomp and flashy show (and often failed because of it), Ravenclaws were much more likely to patiently, silently crush you to dust beneath their foot when you least expected it.

They began devouring their feast. Rose began babbling about classes and books, and Al ignored her and jabbered on about all the things besides school the three of them were going to do, and Scorpius almost forgot who he was, and all the cold that waited outside their small circle of inextinguishable warmth.

* * *

It seemed to be a big moment when Scorpius stepped into the Gryffindor Common Room. For everyone else. They watched with bated breath behind him. Scorpius, after shortly acknowledging the magnificent splendor of the room and saying good night to an awestruck Rose, hurried upstairs into the boy's dormitories. He was more focused upon getting into his bed than having his every action analyzed. Before he'd gotten unto the train, he had solidified in his mind the lonely existence he was destined to live, down in the dark dungeons of Slytherin. He expected barren days of hiding behind books, mostly avoiding drawing the attention of the Potter-Weasleys, the Death Eater spawn, and anyone else. He would melt into the background. Become nothing. This completely opposite direction reality had taken was a little more than he could handle at the moment.

Scorpius fell unto his rich red sheets. He breathed in the sweet smell of fire and wood. A soft sheet of security settled over him. Several boys hollering as they hurtled up the stairs interrupted his reverie. The laughter came to a sudden stop.

"Oh. Look." A nasally voice sneered. "There's the Death Eater ferret." Scorpius clenched his teeth and remained silent. The other boys chuckled tentatively. Scorpius's back was turned away from them. He could only here his voice.

"Wonder why he didn't get back on the train the minute he was sorted. Thought it would be fun pretending to be a hero, eh Malfoy? Thought it would be a nice little game, pretending you were brave? Huh?" Scorpius began counting to ten in his head. He had expected this. He had been training for these insults his entire life, ever since he was five years old and was asked by a reporter what it was like having murderous scum as a father. But it was much harder to say nothing now than when he'd imagined it alone in his bedroom. The jeers and snickers became more confident.

"I guess they did think they were heroes. Thought they were the saviours of the magical world, killing people everywhere they went. Thought they were better than everyone else. Well, look where they are now. Right at the bottom, right where they belong." The boy leaned over and spit. The warm saliva landed on his ear. It dripped down, into the insides of his ear. Scorpius didn't react.

"Why don't you do everyone a favour and disappear? Isn't that what your daddy did, when things started going bad for him? When his family wasn't Voldemort's favorite anymore? Why don't you run away, just like the selfish bastard he was? Why don't you go back to your bitch of a mother?" Scorpius's eyes snapped open. His entire body became lit with fire, and every argument he was screaming to himself felt insignificant. Slowly he rose. The other boys elbowed each other, sniggering at their success in evoking a reaction. Scorpius turned his neck. The two boys immediately stopped. A third was sitting on his bed, staring out the window, paying no attention to the others (or just too scared to intervene). The fourth was smiling ravenously, his blue eyes dancing with a look that bordered on insane glee. He had light brown hair, curling against his forehead. Aiden Corner. He was the one who'd been talking. Scorpius rose to his feet, his fists clenched. He took two steps forward until he was towering over Aiden. He raised his hand and grabbed Aiden's shirt. He twisted it and pulled Aiden forward until their noses were rubbing together and he could see all the wrath that was burning in Scorpius's eyes.

"Don't ever say a word against my mum or dad." Scorpius breathed, almost without a sound. Aiden's eyes widened a fraction, but he still sneered.

"Think you can hurt me Malfoy? Who do you think they'll believe? You or me?" The boy drawled.

"Hey! What's going on?" They both turned towards the entranceway. Scorpius let go of Aiden's shirt. Aiden stumbled backward a few steps. Al was standing there, looking between the boys, confused.

"He was about to hit me!" Aiden pointed wildly to Scorpius, who was now brushing dirt of his robes nonchalantly.

"Scorpius wouldn't have done that."

"Yes I would have. And I still might." Al's eyes widened.

"Why?" Scorpius turned to the other boys, huddled together in the corner.

"You tell him. What did Aiden say?"

Scorpius's eyes were blazing. His lips were fixed in a hard line. They quickly decided that a Malfoy was a worse enemy to have than a Corner. With their eyes fixed upon the floor, they hastily informed Al what Aiden Corner had said and done, before quickly disappearing beneath their blankets. Scorpius wondered if they had somehow accidently switched the Gryffindors and Slytherins this year. It would explain what he was doing here anyway.

Al was seething. He whipped his head toward Aiden. "You sick, twisted…" Al said a couple more things. Things his mother would have whipped his rear hind for saying.

"Forget it Al." Scorpius felt deflated. He sighed, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

"No!" Al looked seconds away from hitting Aiden. "He can't say that to you! How dare he?!" Aiden pretended not to hear.

"Al, forget it. It doesn't matter. Really. It's not worth creating trouble over." Scorpius's tone was forceful, and Al reluctantly relented.

But when everything was dark and the other boys were in their beds asleep. Al tiptoed to Aiden's bed. And Al, in a calm whisper that sent shivers of fear down Aiden's spine, made sure Aiden knew exactly what would happen if he ever spoke to Scorpius that way again. Al was scrawny, and not very threatening, but he was a Potter, and he had power. And he was going to use that power to defend his friend. The friend he never expected to have, but was coming to care for deeply.

* * *

The stares and whispers followed Scorpius to breakfast the next morning. Scorpius was beginning his first day of classes cranky and irritated. He had no doubt that Aiden Corner had already spread many fantastical tales without a shred of truth to them, about how Scorpius had tried to hurt him and assert his Malfoy superiority over everyone else. Rose was already seated at the table with a book at her side and plate full of food in front of her. She waved them over. He curls were tied back and she had a bright smile on her face. She gave Scorpius a warm hug when he arrived, that surprised him momentarily (it surprised the people near them for much longer).

"How are your housemates?" Al asked her as he grabbed a plate and sat across from them.

"Some are absolutely horrid, and the rest are too scared to disagree." Rose seemed unfazed by this.

"That sounds about right." Scorpius muttered. Al eyed him sympathetically.

"Did you write a letter to your family last night?" Rose asked casually while buttering her toast.

"Um…no, not really." Scorpius felt a stab of guilt. He had promised to send his mother a letter the minute he reached his dormitory. They had bought him his own Barn Owl, Harmen, specifically for that. They did not doubt that the school owl would mostly likely be intercepted, with Scorpius's letter appearing in the next issue of the Daily Prophet. His mother had been frantic as the date for him to leave approached. She wrung her hands and went through the checklist of supplies and reminders a million times and even considered homeschooling Scorpius for the next seven years. She would be out of her mind with worry.

Rose glanced archly from the side, raising her eyebrow. "No? What about you Al?" Al glanced uneasily towards Scorpius.

"We had a bit of a rough evening. We didn't have much energy afterwards to write."

"Well it might have been better if you had. The Daily Prophet just published an article about how Scorpius cast some sort of enchantment over us, clouding our judgement and convincing us to be friends with him." Scorpius choked, spitting his pumpkin juice back into his cup. "They also mentioned how you were sorted into Gryffindor. There are a bunch of theories of a 'new plan to restore the glory of the Malfoys' and how you were 'planted as a source of inside information'."

"What would my dad do with it anyway?"

"Besides," Al added, "The only insider information we have is that Uncle Percy is a lightweight and Aunt Hermione once had five fire whiskeys in ten minutes."

"Well anyways, your parents might have wanted to hear the truth from you two, not from the front page of the Daily Prophet." Al and Scorpius exchanged a glance.

"Do you think they believe it?" Al bit his lip.

"Of course not!" Rose snapped, "They've already had more than a lifetime's worth of the Daily Prophet's propaganda and lies. And anyway, I already wrote to them."

Scorpius choked on his toast. "You wrote…to my parents?"

"Yes!" Rose flashed a dazzling smile. "I actually got a letter back from them this morning. Both your mum and your dad. They were very kind and courteous. Your mother sounded so happy and relieved. They both said they were very proud of you."

Scorpius tried to imagine his father, Draco Malfoy, writing a letter to his once worst enemies' daughter. Asking after Ron Weasley and Harry Potter's health. Scorpius swallowed uneasily.

"To my parents?" He repeated weakly. Rose giggled.

"Why are you so worried?" Al was grinning. He shoved a sausage in his mouth. "What did my parents say?"

"That they were very proud of you making Gryffindor and very pleased that you were making friends. They said they looked forward to meeting Scorpius. But Lily said that Uncle Harry choked on his dinner and stared at the letter for a good hour."

"And your parents?" Al smirked.

"Hugo said my dad started laughing and wouldn't stop for about ten minutes. My mum said they hadn't expected any different, whatever that meant." Rose shrugged.

Scorpius stared into his plate. "I don't know how my life became so messed up."

"Trust me mate." Al burped. "I've been asking myself the same question since I got out of diapers and learned my best friend was Rose. She should really come with a warning label. Side effects may include talking your ear off, refusal to listen to you, and accidently completely changing your life."

"Where as Al should come with a defect label at a reduced price." Rose sniffed.

Harmen arrived with a letter. Scorpius shoved it in his bag, promising to read it later. Then another owl swooped downwards, carrying a creamy letter with handwriting he didn't recognize.

"No!" Rose screeched, snatching it from his hand. She threw it in front of them on the table.

"What?" Scorpius was taken back. Al rolled his eyes.

"Don't be paranoid Rose. What's the worst a letter could do?"

"Do you listen to anything my mother tells us?

"Does anyone?"

"Remember during the Triwizard Tournament? When that Skeeter cow published that article about my mum and how she was playing both Uncle Harry and Victor Krum, and she got letters from random people with curses in them!"

Al shivered. "I still can't get over all the ones about our parents having affairs behind each other's backs. The one about your mum and my dad was one of my most traumatizing childhood experiences. That, and James locking me in the attic he said hid Voldemort's ghost. Still, it's probably just a normal letter."

"Well, would you like to check Al?" The three of them turned to stare at the cream colored envelope.

They decided they were not so hungry anymore.

* * *

Scorpius's Morning: Potions, Double Charms and History of Magic

Just like Rose, Scorpius had read all the books, memorized most of the spells, and was determined to be at the top of the class. But where Rose was a diligent, hardworking lion, Scorpius was a power-hungry snake.

Potions:

"Ah Mr. Potter! Miss Weasley! I am delighted to see you both! And who's your little friend…oh! … _Mr. Malfoy_ …"

Slughorn steps back, pales, and swallows. He quickly gathers himself.

"I expect great things for you both! Your parents were excellent potioneers! And I also _insist_ you attend the next slug club dinner."

Rose smiles sweetly. "Of course Professor Slughorn. If our friend Scorpius can come too!"

Professor Slughorn turns red and walks away without replying. He proceeds to ignore Scorpius's hand for the rest of class (but all the points go to Gryffindor anyway thanks to Rose).

Charms:

Professor Madgewick is a forty year old woman permanently entombed within her preconceived beliefs, making her a hard headed bigot determined to make Scorpius's life miserable.

"Malfoy! What is the incantation for a shield charm?"

"Protego."

"And the spell for penetrating another's mind?"

"Legilimens."

"And just how would you know that spell? Do you have any plans to use it?"

"No Professor. But one person once tried to use it against me."

"Professor! Those are fifth year level spells! And you learn them in Defense Against the Dark Arts, not charms! I don't think that's very fair -"

"I did not ask for your opinion Miss Weasley! Don't think I am going to treat you any different because of your parents."

"But you're totally willing to treat Scorpius differently because of his parents!"

"10 points from Gryffindor for your accusations Mr. Potter."

She ignores Scorpius and Rose's hands for about ten minutes of the class, before realizing they are the only ones who know the answers. She calls on them grudgingly, and continues to glare at them for the entire time they practise.

History of Magic:

Goblins. Al falls asleep and drools over his desk. He talks quite a bit too. Rose and Scorpius are the only one taking notes. Scorpius gives up midway through.

But it's also a comfort, because it's the one place in the world he's not a Malfoy.

No, he's Scott Mallory. According to a two hundred year old ghost.

But Scorpius is pretty sure that even if Voldemort in all his nose less glory walked in here, Professor Binns still wouldn't stop droning on about goblins. Maybe Professor Binns is the only real fearless person here.

In Between Classes and Lessons:

If someone insulted him in front of Rose, she would yell and threaten to jinx them. If in front of Al, he would threaten to tell his father, Harry Potter (that's when Scorpius started considering if he and Al were switched at birth). But people, including the Weasley cousins, still managed to pass their remarks to Scorpius without the other two knowing.

X

"I don't know what game you're playing Malfoy…"

"Maybe you should ask your cousin, Rose. She's the one that's writing the rules."

X

"Malfoy, we know you're trying to pull a fast one over Rose and Al, and we think—

"If anything, they're trying to pull a fast one over me."

X

"Just because Rose and Al are too innocent to realize what you're doing, doesn't mean we all are!"

"Rose is anything but innocent."

X

"You're a terrible person Malfoy."

"Excuse me, I'm late."

"Don't think we like you."

"I'm not a Ravenclaw, but even I'm not that dumb."

X

"I can't believe you would do something so terrible."

"You must have a pretty high opinion of him, if him doing nothing is such a shock to you."

"Go away Sara! He's trying to trick my little brother!"

"Yeah, think of all the damage he could do, being mostly a stick weighing less than 40 pounds. And we all know the power his daddy has at the ministry. He could make some bad stuff happen, once the entire magical world stops hating his guts and actually begins to believe a word that comes out of his mouth."

"Sara, are you defending me or insulting me?"

"You'll learn I'm usually doing a bit of both Scorpius."

Then James and Sara started arguing over something else and completely forgot Scorpius was there.

* * *

Finally, it was lunch.

"First day, and she already assigns us a mountain of homework! It's charms, how much homework can she give? Practice the charm, read a chapter about the charm, write an essay on the history of the charm! It's Charms, not History of Magic! How much can you write about Wingardium Leviosa anyway?"

"A lot actually, considering it was one of the main reasons our parents became friends. You should know, from the amount of stories my dad tells all of us about it."

"Well I think everything Professor Madgewick does and says is ridiculous. Right Scorpius?"

Scorpius nodded stiffly, jabbing his fork into the food, shoving it into his mouth. He was as still as a rock.

"What's wrong Scorpius?" Al whispered softly.

"Minus everything?" Scorpius remarked dryly. "Minus the fact that every teacher is looking for an excuse to fail me? Minus the fact that so many people hate me and think I'm worthless I'm beginning to believe it myself? Minus the fact everywhere I go people sneer and warn others to stay away? Minus the fact my mother's parents almost disowned her for marrying my dad? Minus the fact that even though I've only ever been taught to respect people, everyone thinks my parents are bigots who have corrupted me? Minus the fact that the Daily Prophet is spitting stories to the entire magical world about what an irredeemable, atrocious person I am, who must have cast dark charms on anyone willing to come near me, because who would willingly choose to be friends with me?." His voiced dropped lower and lower, his words falling faster and faster.

"We would. We did." Al said earnestly.

"Only because Rose wanted to be a rebel and take me on as a charity case!" Scorpius snapped.

Al gasped, his emerald eyes widening with hurt. Scorpius regretted the words the instant they came out of his mouth. But he didn't think they were entirely untrue. He expected them to grab their stuff and never talk to them again. He expected Rose's face to grow red and for her eyes to light on fire and for her to hate him like everyone else.

But she didn't. She eyed him calmly. "I don't do things to spite my family. I do what I want, and if I didn't want to be your friend, not all of their hate nor all of their love would give me the slightest inclination." She looked to her side, carelessly watching Dominique make furious scribbles in her Quidditch playbook. "I became your friend because I wanted to know what you were really like. What you were really thinking. What you really felt." She looked back to Scorpius, her gaze a little empty. "But maybe all you are is a scared little boy, full of self-pity, who probably ignores kindness every time someone shows it to him."

"Rose!" Al was affronted. He shook his head violently, mouthing to Scorpius how she was insane and didn't know what she was saying. But Scorpius's stony gaze was fixed on her. His heart beat fast with fury.

"What do you want me to do?" He hissed icily. "Stand on this table and yell at everybody to see me for what I am?"

"Yes." She said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire world. Scorpius leaned back.

"You're insane." He decided.

"The world's going to think what it wants of you unless you show it something different. Either you stop caring, or you start showing them something other than what they want to see." Rose threw a potato in her mouth, swung her legs over the bench, and pulled herself up. She pushed aside the bowl of pudding and plate of potatoes. "What are you waiting for?" She tilted her head the other way. "Are you scared of what they'll think of you?" She was goading him. Provoking him. She put one foot on the bench, hoisted herself up, the other foot on the table, and hoisted herself higher.

Before Al or Scorpius could stop her, she began shouting.

"Excuse me!" She yelled to the entire great hall, atop the Gryffindor table. "Hello!" The noise slowly died down into silence. Rose appeared to be pleased.

"Miss Weasley! Get down from there!" Professor Madgewick's face was as red as Rose's hair.

"No! I want to hear what she has to say." Professor Longbottom grinned and flashed her a thumbs up. Professor Madgewick bristled. She turned to the headmistress, who was tilting her head curiously.

"Professor Longbottom is clearly showing favoritism! He is –"

"Actually," Professor Stonebrooke said pointedly, silencing the other woman, "I also want to hear what Miss Weasley has to say. After all, people don't risk both detention _and_ making fools out of themselves for nothing."

"James and Fred do! Everyday!" Sara called out. Several people laughed. James opened his mouth to reply, but was elbowed by a chuckling Fred. Rose giggled.

"Thank you professor." She squared her shoulders and raised her chin, before beginning resolutely. "You all know I'm Rose Weasley. This is my cousin, Al Potter, and we've been best friends since we were born." Rose took a deep breath. "And now we have another friend. The kindest, bravest, most _best_ friend we could ever ask for. And his name is Scorpius Malfoy."

Buzzing once again erupted into the air. Many people looked angry. But Professor Longbottom was beaming, and so was Al, and a lot of people looked interested to know a bit more.

"I'll admit, I did burst into his compartment and force him to be friends with me –" She paused as some people chuckled, " – But I stayed friends with him because I wanted to. Because he is amazing. He's smart. He's incredibly compassionate. And he, along with my parents and aunts and uncles, is one of the bravest people I know."

"And the worst thing is that you'll never know. Because almost all of you will see the name Malfoy, and you won't see anything beyond the blonde hair and the Slytherin he isn't but you think he is, and the other Malfoys who did bad things before him. But he's not them. He could have been, but he chose not to be. He was taught not to be. And the point is, you can only find out if you try to see what's really there. If you try to find out who he really is. But either way, most of you have bullied an eleven year old boy who you don't even know. And that makes you just as bad as any Malfoy at your age before him. It's no different than eleven year old Draco Malfoy bullying my father, or Uncle Harry. You're not being righteous people, you're being hypocrites." Rose was breathing heavily by now, but hastily added, "And I plan on us being friends for a long time, so the quicker you get used to it, the better it will be for everyone."

Rose leaped down from the bench and gently pulled Scorpius to his feet. In front of everybody, she threw her arms around him and buried her head in his chest. There were many gasps, a few glares, and some smiles too. No one clapped or cheered or said much, but it was a start. Now, some people might, at their own pace, choose to see more than what they wanted to.

Slowly, Scorpius wrapped his arms around the tiny, determined girl. Rose Weasley, his best friend. When Al got up and wrapped his arms around the both of them, Scorpius felt that after wandering for so long, he had finally come home. Everything felt possible with them beside him.

* * *

 **Tell me what you think! And out of curiosity, who do you think Aiden Corner's mother is?**

 **Quote:** **The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart. ~ Helen Keller.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I hope the people who wanted Al to be in Slytherin aren't too disappointed. I like the idea of a Potter in Slytherin a lot, but I just don't think Al himself is much of a Slytherin. But don't worry- there are still a few more Potter-Weasleys that have to be sorted.**

 **Thank you so much to all the people that reviewed, favorited, followed, or read my story! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

"AHHH! Sp- Spi- SPIDER!"

"Rose, calm down, it's just a tiny, harmless - "

" _Kill it Kill it Kill it Kill it!"_

"Shut up Al! Rose, where is it?"

"Right there! Can't you see it!?"

"…I don't see it…"

"Are you BLIND? _There_!"

"…"

"That thing? Rose, that's smaller than the nail on my pinky."

"Just kill it Scorpius!"

"But Rose, don't you think you're overreacting…"

"KILL IT!"

"Alright, alright. There, it's dead. You can let go of me now."

Rose's arms were wrapped tightly around Scorpius's neck, to the point where he was actually having difficulty breathing. Rose released a sigh of relief and relaxed her iron grip.

"I wasn't that scared." She insisted. She jutted her chin out, daring anyone to argue. Scorpius and Al exchanged a look over her head.

"I think she's just using the spiders as an excuse to choke us to death." Al muttered. Scorpius smothered a laugh. They sat themselves on the bench beside her.

"What did you get on the last homework assignment for Charms?" Scorpius asked her casually, leaning against the table.

"Ten out of ten." Rose smirked. "What about you? Wasn't it… nine or something…?"

"I had everything you had!" Scorpius bristled. "That Madgewick troll is just out to get me!"

"If you say so."

"Well Slughorn said _my_ potion was the best in the class."

"Only because my partner was that Finnegan girl and she messes up any Potion she touches!"

"Oi!" A shout came from down the table.

"Mind you, I still came second, very close behind you. And anyway, I was the first in the class to transfigure the match into a needle."

"Only about ten seconds before me."

"Sure, sure. And _I_ got Gryffindor 20 points in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"I got us _25_ in Herbology."

"Only because I told you the answers before class."

"You think I actually understood anything you said in that monologue?"

"Doesn't matter. I'm going to top you on the essay due next period."

"If that's what helps you sleep at night."

Al shoved a spoonful of eggs into his mouth. "Are either of you actually considering the possibility of _me_ beating you?"

"No." They answered in unison.

"Good to know." Al grumbled, "I'll just become a threat when you least expect it."

Scorpius reached downwards into his bag, running his fingers along the multiple objects. A month had passed in seconds, and those seconds had become an eternity. He lightly touched each individual object, closing his eyes and remembering what they meant to him.

He dragged his fingertips over the first pair of letters he'd received, signed with ornate strokes.

 _Dear Scorpius,_

 _I was rather concerned when neither your mother nor I received a letter from you, despite your many assertions we didn't have to worry about being left in the dark about your life. I feel slightly hurt that you would feel the need to conceal the outcome of your sorting, or the friends you made. I had hoped that you would have known I would feel pride for you, regardless of where you went. Believe me when I say this now, I am very proud to have a Gryffindor as a son. However, I must admit I am somewhat wary about your choice of friends._

 _Don't think I'm not happy for you. It is not because they are a Potter and a Weasley (well, maybe a little). I say this only out of concern for your well being. You are children at the moment, and you do not feel the true affect of our pasts on your lives. The rebellion is very small to you, and most likely enjoyable. But both of our families have history, and we have been in terrible places together. We have left scars on each other; we are branded in each other's memories in ways that will never fade. You have seen many things Scorpius, and you at age 11 have become a man with strength I have not been able to acquire even today._

 _I know you will for sure misunderstand what I am trying to say. I am only happy when you are happy. Please know that I want you to enjoy your time with your new friends, but I want you to remember that it may not, and is not likely, to last forever. Don't give away too much of your heart. Try to hold yourself at a distance. I know it isn't easy, and I am sorry you even have to, but it is the best for a person in your situation._

 _Please don't feel defensive. Reading your friend's letter, I can already tell she is a strong, smart, if somewhat scary, little girl. She is truly the daughter of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. I have no doubt her cousin is also a kind, sensitive boy. In due time, I will tell you all of our history with them, and no doubt their parents will unveil it all to them. It is very dark and includes many things I regret bitterly, mainly my weakness I am sorry to say I still possess. Once all of you learn the truth, it may be difficult, and most likely impossible to look at each other or your friendship in the same way. It might become too painful to continue, and I want to prepare you for the possibility of that outcome. I want to protect you as much as I can. I love you too much to see your heart broken that way._

 _But for now, just enjoy. How are your classes? Your teachers? What is your favorite place in the school? How are the other students? How are your friends? Does Rose Weasley go on tangents about house elves? When is your first flying class? I always had a mild curiosity to know how the Gryffindor common room looked like (not that I'd ever admit it to anyone other than you)._

 _Please don't be angry at my words, but keep them at the back of your mind._

 _Your loving father,_

 _Draco_

 _P.S. Don't tell your mother I told you this, but if you can, it would be nice if you could beat that Weasley girl in most, if not all of your classes. Don't feel pressured. But it would be nice. I would prefer it._

His mother's letter was full of reprimands and questions and happiness. But her letter ended differently.

 _Don't listen to anything your father says about your friends. You do not have to live the same lives we did. You are already a better person than we will ever be. You will make things happen in this world Scorpius. I know it. Don't let him, or anyone else, stop you from doing or being what you are capable of._

 _With all the love in the world,_

 _Mum_

With it came a box of chocolate frogs for both Al and Rose. And a pair of red gloves.

Scorpius's fingers drifted towards the red and gold scarf Molly Weasley had knitted for Al. Scorpius had borrowed it last week. Al never asked for it back, and Scorpius couldn't seem to find the strength to offer. Al wrote home saying he lost it, and a new one was brought to him the next day. Neither of them mentioned it when Scorpius wore it.

He pressed his thumb to the detention slip James and Fred had gotten for dueling a fourth year boy that had been insulting Scorpius behind his back in the hallways. They had carelessly mentioned it in a conversation (in which they mainly insulted Al and complained about their homework), before accidently leaving it on the couch when they left for their dormitories. Rose pretended she didn't see when Scorpius picked it up and kept it in his bag, for a reason he did not completely understand.

He felt his lips slip into a smile when he touched the spine of Rose's old copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird._ She'd shoved it into his hands beneath the plants one morning in Herbology. She quickly whispered that it was her favorite and that the copy was now his. He'd read it that night in his bed, feeling himself fall into the world of words echoing through the fading pages.

He dragged his pinky over a smoky feather the color of darkening ash. He recalled the encounter in his first week…

* * *

 _The sky was pale. The wind shivered around him. He grasped the wooden rail with his gloved hands and craned his neck, attempting to get a better sight from behind the pumpkins of the magnificent creature with smoldering orange eyes and a neck dressed in shiny feathers, raised upright with pride._

 _"_ _Hippogriffs." A voice washed in wonder drifted lightly towards him. The enormous giant, with his muscular arms and powerful body, looked more like an innocent child, watching with amazement at all the spectacular glory the world and its parts were capable of. "Beautiful creatures, aren' they?"_

 _"_ _What's his name?"_

 _"_ _Wither – " Hagrid stopped suddenly. He tilted his head and considered Scorpius for a couple seconds._

 _"_ _Buckbeak." Hagrid admitted slowly._

 _"_ _Buckbeak." Scorpius repeated softly. "Buckbeak. He's stunning."_

 _"_ _Isn' 'e?" They stared in silence, both watching in awe beneath the cold as Buckbeak spread his breathtaking wings, unveiling thousands of shades of gray and blue. Hues that varied ever so slightly, catching the light and the clouds and the sky in different ways, holding the colors in its grasp. Hagrid shifted._

 _"_ _Scorpius, is it?"_

 _"_ _Yeah. That's me."_

 _"_ _I'm Care for Magical Creatures professor. If yuh come aroun' with Rose an' Al for tea on Friday afternoon, I'd be 'appy to show yuh some more."_

 _Scorpius smiled shyly. "I'd love to," He whispered. Hagrid's beetle-black eyes shined._

* * *

Finally, Scorpius wrapped his hand around a sleek, black object.

He remembered his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

* * *

She wore muggle sweatpants beneath her robes. The robes were old and splattered with paint stains. The black had faded away into gray, and was smeared with reds, dotted with yellows, and filled with handprints of green and blue. She was from Cameroon, and that's what she told people who were determined to say she was African. She insulted students, the system, and Professor Madgewick all in the same breath, which made her very likable. She truly did not give a damn about what anyone else thought and was open about expressing her views on the even the most controversial and sensitive issues, so she was generally a role model for most students. She had them call her Professor Lindsey instead of Professor Wangmene (first name instead of last). She was hired a few years ago in her early twenties when the older Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher (who had taught from the end of the war until then) decided to move into the ministry. Apparently the first thing she said when she came in for the interview was that she would be the worst, most biased, lazy and inept teacher they could ever hire, and went on to give a list of reasons and examples to prove why. Professor Stonebrooke wanted no one but her. She had, to the surprise of no one, been a Gryffindor, and had only been 5 years old when the war ended. When she came across students dueling or planning a prank, she usually squealed and sat down to watch. That was often enough to deter them. She actually joined in on a food fight that James and Fred had started the year before (along with several other professors). She enjoyed occasionally canceling assignments out of the blue for no reason (but this only happened once or twice in a year). In short, students loved her.

Her hair, in the cornrow style, was partially shoved upon her head in a flimsy bun and partially spilling past her shoulders. She was chewing on one braid while simultaneously twisting another with a pencil. She was furiously rubbing her fingers on a pencil drawing from her book for shading after lunch when the first years entered for their first class. Her eyelids flew open and she assumed a slightly crazed smile of psychotic excitement. She leapt up, tossing her book aside on her cluttered desk. She walked to the desk the three were sitting in.

"Mr. Malfoy." She raised her back with exaggerated authority.

"Yes Professor?"

"It has recently been brought to my attention that I am obligated to hate you."

"…I've noticed most people _do_ feel that way about me."

"This presents me with a dilemma."

"…Alright?"

"You see, I have a bit of a rebellious spirit. And so, upon learning this, my instant reaction was to make you one of the favorites I pretend I don't have, mainly just to spite the status quo. But the problem is, you really could be an unlikable bully, and then I would just end up being stubborn and favoring you anyway, which would really end up messing up the reputation as a fair teacher I don't have."

Scorpius blinked. "I can see how that would be a problem. Though in all honesty, someone liking me is not really a problem I've had to deal with."

Rose and Al started coughing loudly.

"Until a day ago." Scorpius amended. Professor Lindsey nodded seriously.

"So I propose a solution. You be the kindest, smartest, and most helpful boy in class, and I won't have to feel very guilty about turning a blind eye every time you deserve detention. Okay?"

Scorpius stared. "Okay…"

"Great!" She flashed a thumbs up. She then turned to Al and Rose.

"I've also learned that I am obligated to love you. This fills me with an urge to give you detention for no reason. But from what I've seen of you two, that would be very difficult to convince myself to do. I have always thought jumping on tables and screaming to hundreds of people is the best way to get them to do what I want." Rose blushed. "And honestly, we already have Madgewick giving out detentions to everybody except those that deserve them, so we already have that post filled."

"Aren't you not allowed to insult your colleagues?" Al asked curiously.

"I'm also not allowed to make my class nap time, but considering I want to sleep all the time except when I actually have time to sleep, the rules aren't really going to stop me."

She giggled before moving back to the front of the class. She used her powerful voice to silence the rest of the students.

"I answer to Professor Lindsey. Today, I'm going to teach you the Vermillious spell to send red sparks, a universal magical spell for help. Because honestly, in my class, for the next seven years you are going to need a _lot_ of help."

She taught them the incantation, and then had them take turns practising and presenting the spell. She assigned them the homework of creating something creative and artistic to reflect their personalities, to help her get to know them better. She said it would be due after Christmas. This confused many people. When they informed her of it, she said that was the point.

"I love her." Al sighed as they began moving out the door among the tide of chattering students.

"I'm out of your league Potter," Professor Lindsey called back, "And way better looking."

"How many times have you said that to my brother?"

"I often have to remind your brother he is not respecting a person if he isn't respecting their decisions. But I'm pretty sure Sara will have plenty of opportunities to remind him of that once he realizes he loves insulting her so much for a reason. He's an odd one, that boy. But has good taste, when it comes to girls at least."

Al choked. "He hates her!"

"That's usually the first clue. Sara and James are also two of my favorites I pretend I don't have."

Al shook his head in disbelief. Rose wrinkled her nose. "She deserves so much better than _James_." She muttered.

"Wait, could you come here Scorpius?" Professor Lindsey called out again, "I want to talk to you." Scorpius waved Al and Rose away when they asked to stay. He walked slowly, feeling slightly nervous because it was the first time in the last hour he had seen Professor Lindsey's face grow serious.

"What is your passion Scorpius?"

He was taken aback. "Huh?"

"What are your hopes, your dreams? What is your aspiration in life? Your deepest desire?"

Lindsey tilted her head, and Scorpius felt dizzy staring into her spinning brown orbs. He scratched the back of his neck.

"Uh…until a day ago, it was mainly not getting beat up…" Lindsey rolled her eyes.

"I see you're setting high standards for yourself."

"Trust me, it seemed outrageous when no one did much but glare and insult me."

"In all due fairness Scorpius, if your aims in life depend upon the careless whims and uninformed opinions of others, you aren't going to end up feeling very fulfilled. You aren't going to become the person you are capable of being if what you aspire for is the good opinion of random strangers and idiots whose opinions shouldn't matter to you anyway."

"Right. Sorry." Scorpius clenched his teeth. "It seems easier to say now, when…"

Professor Lindsey wasn't listening. She reached over into the clutter of her desk and grasped a black object. She took his hand and pressed it into his palm.

Scorpius stared downwards. It was a camera.

"The world is an incredible place. Full of people with unfathomable lives and pasts and possibilities and feelings that make them who they are," She whispered, "You've been watching it for a long time. Start showing the world what you see, what it means to you."

She gently guided him out the door.

* * *

Scorpius had always been able to detach himself from the world and watch from the outside. He could from far away, stare into the eccentric intricacies of random strangers, into the darkness people hid from the rest of the world. Into their habits that he knew probably mirrored something bigger, and into their emotions that became tangled with the people beside them. Observing the world had helped him understand what it meant to be human; what people did and why. But with the camera he could capture brief flashes of emotion; freeze the fleeting, evanescent moments, trapping them in paper forever.

A momentary second entombed. Framed upon a wall, shoved in a back pocket. The youth, the love, the anger, the poignancy of the feelings that may or may not one day fade – they became eternal.

The photographs were wrapped in wax paper at the bottom of his bag. He let each one drift into his mind.

 _Sara's silhouette melting into the shadow of the clouds in the sky. Shades of gray, overlapping. You can see her back, her head and the outline of the side of her extended legs. The waves of the lake shine white and lick her toes, lapping around her bare feet. There is a notebook open on her thighs, and a pen upon the sand._

That's another thing Scorpius noticed about Sara. Sometimes she's there, and sometimes she's not. Sometimes she's a passionate whirlwind, burning herself into the pages of the world, unforgettable. A powerful voice, her opinions forced into the hands of others. About the world, people, poverty, justice, discrimination, life. She has something deep and profound to say about everything. But then she withdraws. Retreats from entanglements with other humans. Her eyes glaze over, and she's staring at something no one else can see.

She still smiles, she's still here, but she's gone. She's in another world. Her eyes are far away, living the life of a book character, or watching the stories she's creating in her mind, with her pen, on her paper.

 _Rose on her broom, hurtling upwards into the deep, cloudless blue. Her flaming curls are burning behind her neck, above her eyes, on her cheek, everywhere. The sunlight screams behind her body._

Rose is insane and intoxicated with the freedom the wind brings her. Scorpius realized there is a great deal of mental stress that having Rose Weasley as a best friend brings.

 _Professor Longbottom, tending his plants. His forehead is clear. His sleeves are rolled up. A soft sunlight drifts through the glass of the greenhouse. He looks calm and patient._

He didn't look up when Scorpius took the picture, but Scorpius is almost sure he saw a small smile on the professor's face.

 _Hogwarts House Elves, hundreds of tiny creatures bustling between each other. Running and rushing in circles. All almost identical with the same floppy ears and large eyes the size of tennis balls. It was like staring down at a swirling storm of ants._

They all stopped their activities and bowed to him after they heard the click of the camera. Many unwillingly. Scorpius hurried out, ignoring their offers for making more food.

 _James darting behind a suit of armor, peering from behind the metal, his light brown eyes glinting and gliding mischievously. His finger is on his chin. His head is tilted thoughtfully._

Scorpius learned later that James was planning on filling the hallway with Cornish Pixies. Al could later testify that this was a success. He had been in the hallway. So had Professor Madgewick. Professor Longbottom and Professor Lindsey pretended they hadn't been laughing about it when she walked into the Great Hall.

 _Al in the hospital wing, tenderly touching his fingertips to the multiple colored vials. His lips are parted slightly, and his brow is furrowed in contemplation._

Madam Pomfrey, now much older and grayer but just as strict, put her hands on her hips when she walked in to the sight of Al touching her potions.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Nothing!" Al squeaked and dragged Scorpius by the arm out of the hospital wing.

 _Madam Pince at her desk. Her lips are pursed and her eyes are fixed on the page of the book. Her fists are clenched. She presses them to the desk. Her glasses have slid half way down her sharp nose. Her thick, dark eye brows are scrunched together._

She yelled at him and kicked him out after she heard him take the picture.

 _Jenna Finnegan in the Gryffindor common room, legs crossed, amid a cluster of other girls. A colorful magazine is open in front of her. Her back is raised. Her eyes are narrowed. She simpers. The other girls lean forward and crane their necks to see the pages of Witch Weekly. Vapid smiles, wide eyes._

Some giggled when he took the picture. Jenna tossed her hair and smirked. Scorpius left as fast as he could.

* * *

The world was a magical place with millions of stories. Some feeble and fleeting, melting quick on your tongue but sweet. Some rising, swelling until they were towering waves, with the power to alter lives. Every picture held a person and their story. In their eyes, in the movement of their hands, in the expression of their mouth. And with the light, the colors, the angles, Scorpius could say what he saw and what he felt without ever opening his mouth.

Rose stared at him from across the table. He smiled at her knowingly.

'Can I see them?' She mouthed.

'Soon.' He mouthed back.

* * *

A couple days later, Harmen arrived with a letter. A single line from his mother was written in cursive upon a scrap of paper.

 _They have decided to release your grandfather from Azkaban._

Of course they chose _now_. Scorpius was pretty sure it was the editor of the Daily Prophet deciding when important things like this happened. Him, and the girl in charge of the Witch Weekly gossip column.

Somewhere else in the castle, Madgewick screamed because Fred and James had dropped a bag of Nifflers on her head.

Madgewick always wore shiny, shimmering, ostentatious robes.

* * *

 **Hope you liked it! Which of the Potter-Weasley family members do you think will be least accepting of Scorpius? Tell me what you think- I love reviews! Even if you didn't like it, I'd really like to know what you think I could do better.**

 **Quote: Do what you feel in your heart to be right - for you'll be criticized anyway. You'll be damned if you do, and damned if you don't. ~ Eleanor Roosevelt**


	6. Chapter 6

"Please James! I really need it!" James cocked his head and pretended to think for a couple seconds.

"Not happening." He returned to his Transfiguration essay.

"Please!"

"Al, I'm not going to change my mind in two seconds, so I'd stop hoping."

"You know," Al snapped, "I could always tell dad you have it!" James slowly raised his head, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Al," James drew out the words slowly, savouring his enjoyment, "You think he doesn't already know?" Al blinked. James shook his head in mock disappointment.

"You think _Harry Potter_ didn't notice when his _cloak of invisibility_ disappeared?"

"Well…"

"He wanted me to find it. He and mum are hiding a lot of things, things _even I_ can't find. He wasn't even trying to hide it."

"Wow. _Even you_ can't find them." Al grumbled sarcastically.

"It was _right_ on his desk in the study. He went back in an hour after I left. He's Head Auror Al. I don't think it took him more than half a second to realize where it went. If he wanted it back, he easily could have taken it back. He wanted me to have it."

"He wanted _us_ to have it!"

"If you want, you can go tell him I'm not letting you use it to sneak out after hours."

"James, what do you need it so much for tonight anyway?"

"Fred and I are sneaking into the kitchens."

"What?" Al sputtered, "James, I need it for something _really_ important, and you won't give it to me because you want to get a midnight snack?!"

"Well what do you need it for?" Al hesitated.

"Uh…I, well…can't you just give it?" James glanced upwards, meeting Al's desperate emerald eyes.

"Not until you tell me what you're using it for."

Al sighed. He quickly glanced in either direction before leaning forward.

"I need to sneak into the Headmistress's office." Al whispered. James stared at him. Then he burst out laughing.

"It's not funny!" Al smacked James's shoulder. "I'm serious James!"

"Al," James struggled between gasps, "I know first year can be hard, but I don't think suicide will solve your problems!" Al exhaled in frustration.

"Fine. Whatever. Sorry I thought you might actually care about your brother for once." Al pushed himself off the couch angrily. James quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him back down.

"Sorry Al. I didn't mean to hurt you." James grinned sheepishly, "But why on earth would you want to do that?"

"What do you care?"

"I'm your brother! Just tell me Al – I promise I won't laugh." James pouted and batted his eyelashes. Al rolled his eyes.

"The portraits of the old headmasters are there." Al mumbled, slightly embarrassed. "I just…both Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape would be there…I just wanted to…"

"You wanted to go talk to them." Realization dawned in James's eyes. "Alright. You're pretty scrawny, so the cloak will probably fit both of us." James ignored the fact that he was currently just as scrawny as Al.

"What?"

"I'm coming with you of course! You didn't think I was going to let you go meet your namesakes alone, did you? I know you, Rose, and Scorpius are like a package deal now, but I think this is a momentous occasion meant to be shared by only brothers."

"James," Al blushed, "You really don't have to do that."

"Well, think of it like this. If I ever get my hands on a time turner, I will probably want to go back in time to meet the original James Potter and Sirius Black. If that ever happens, I'm dragging you back with me. Then we can completely screw up the past together."

James beamed. He didn't ask why Albus couldn't go in the day with the Headmistress's permission. He didn't ask anything. It reminded Al of the day before September 1st. He teased Al about Slytherin, but at night he let Al roll in his bed and sleep in his arms. That's when he told Al about all the beautiful, magical things he loved about Hogwarts. He also told Al about how he didn't always enjoy being Harry Potter's son, being in the limelight, and being loaded with expectations of who he was supposed to be. But pretending to love it was sometimes the best way to convince himself he really did. And he knew he probably would have been a prankster regardless of his name. It reminded Al that his brother, at least some of the time, wasn't a complete prat, and did occasionally care about his family.

But he did tend to piss a lot of people off.

"JAMES POTTER!" Sara's face was on fire. She stormed into the common room, her ferocious stride leading people to jump out of the way before she reached them.

"What. Is. This." She yanked a piece of parchment from her bag and shoved it into James's jovial face.

"My good deed for the week." He replied cheekily.

"You got people to sign this? HOW IS THAT A GOOD DEED? Unless you were hoping I would murder you for it! Then maybe driving me to rid the world of you was a good deed!"

The paper said: Sign Here If You Think This Looks Like Sara Barjati. Below was an exaggerated doodle of a banshee screaming, waving a hand in the air from her desk. James had exaggerated it to give her an abnormally large nose and oily black hair that reached her feet (even though Sara's hair was brown and ended above her hip). Albus was astounded to see that there were a great many signatures on the paper. Sara was seething, but didn't look very hurt.

"Well, you're always on about changing the world for the better and taking a stand against bad things, so I thought I'd pitch in!"

"James...you are an atrocious, appalling, pathetic imbecile." James ignored her.

"I thought using public opinion to inform you that no one cares about the speeches you shove down our throats daily, in class and outside of it, would be taking a stand to save all of our ears. Just think! If I could get you to shut up, I'd be saving hundreds of innocent peoples' hearing!" He flashed her a sunny smile and a thumbs up. Albus face palmed beside him.

"Sara," Al interjected, "Don't listen to him, he doesn't mean it."

"Yes I do."

"James, what the heck is your problem?"

"I don't have a problem! I just feel pity that you think people actually care about what you have to say."

James was now crossing a line between rivalry, and being downright hurtful. Dominique began to rise a couple meters away, now angry at her younger cousin.

Sara whipped out her wand and pointed it at James, only millimeters from his neck. She leaned close so their noses where almost touching. Her eyes blazing.

"You keep trying to walk over me James, but it never works. If you want to conceited prat, be my guest, but you're only hurting yourself. I don't understand why you'll do anything to make me feel less about myself, especially when I refuse to let that happen!"

At this point, most people with a shred of sanity would be cowering with fear and begging for mercy. James just smirked cockily.

"Looking for a chance to get close to me, are you Sara? Can't say I blame you. I'm irresistible. But you should know – I've never really been into screaming banshees." Sara's face flushed.

"You're incorrigible!" She screeched. She whirled around, and with clenched fists she grabbed her bag and stormed away.

"That was kind of mean James." Al felt apologetic in his place. "What do you have against her?"

"What do I have against her?" James spoke loud enough so she could hear. "She's the one who keeps butting into my life, telling me what to do and what not to do! She insults me in front of everyone, for no reason except for the fact that I occasionally tease her! And she actually means what she says! She practically goes around and recruits people for her 'I Hate James Potter Club'. I just have a laugh, and she paints me as this terrible person to everyone!"

James seemed to be invigorated by his victory. He should have left it at that, but he didn't.

"I knew she'd never really hex me. She's all talk." James gloated. Sara froze in her tracks. Stiff with fury, she turned around very slowly. She truly did look murderous.

"Do you doubt I'll do it?" Each syllable was carefully and precisely uttered. James laughed. The people around him were terrified just watching. Al was entranced, as if he was watching a train crash in slow motion.

"I don't doubt your ability to hex me. But you won't do it. You say you will. But you won't."

"I will!"

"No you won't."

"Yes I will! Watch me!"

"Then why haven't you done it already?"

They stared each other down.

Finally, Sara turned away, shaking. She started to walk away. James was sure he'd won. It might have been his boastful snicker that caused her to change her mind mid-step.

She, only in second year, spun around and hit him with a bat-bogey hex that would have made Ginny Weasley proud.

And Ginny Weasley was pretty proud when she received at least eight letters about it that night. The Weasleys, who had all learned the hex, didn't stop laughing for ten minutes. Albus was about to, but then remembered he kind of needed James tonight.

* * *

"Ouch! Al that was my foot!"

"Sorry! I can't see!"

"Hang on, let me use my wand." James muttered ' _lumos_ ', and the tip of his wand lit up.

"There. So this is the Headmistress's office… pretty empty…"

"James, don't you think it's a little weird the door was open? I mean, shouldn't it be – "

"What do you think you're doing!" A man snapped behind them. They slowly turned around, and were shocked to see the origin of the voice was from a curtain of black hair that stuck to a pale face, inside the frame labeled Severus Snape.

Albus took a tentative step towards the portrait of the hook nosed, greasy haired man. The man's lips twisted into a ridiculing sneer.

"Another Potter." The words were succinctly breathed, "Who believes himself above the rules of the common crowd."

"Are you Severus Snape?" Al blurted out, not comprehending the man's obvious scorn and disgust.

The oily faced man's lip curled with loathing, "You are clearly as selfish and discourteous as your predecessors."

"Hey!" James watched as Albus's face crumbled. He was very protective of his family, and was furious at this man's complete disregard for his brother's feelings. "You don't even know my brother! He's compassionate and selfless and kind, just like all the other Potters before him!" Al put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"I'm sorry sir; I just…really needed to see you." He managed.

"And what made you think I would have any inkling of a desire to meet another arrogant Potter brat such as yourself?" Al looked away, rapidly blinking back tears.

James was incensed. He put his arm protectively around his brother's shoulders. His voice rose higher. "What makes you think you can talk to my brother like that!" Several other portraits shushed him, mumbling in their sleep. James shushed them back.

"Severus?" Another voice sounded sleepily from the side. Another man was suddenly in the portrait. "What do we have here?" They had seen his long silver beard and half moon glasses on chocolate frog cards, in every aisle of the book store, and in almost every important building in Diagon Alley and the Ministry. This man was legend.

"You're Albus Dumbledore!" Albus gasped. "You… you're…my dad told me about you! Both of you. That's why…I'm sorry, we'll leave now." He hastily turned away, grabbing James's arm.

"Well there's no need for that! I must say, I've always enjoyed a late night chat with students. There is always a certain excitement to it- breaking the rules." The portrait of Dumbledore smiled kindly. The man beside him looked irritated.

Al glanced upwards shyly, a little hopeful. James was still miffed.

"Maybe we'll stay. If _he_ ," He stuck his nose in the air and pointed to Severus, "Agrees to stop being an arrogant prat to my brother!"

"You insolent, ill-mannered – "

"I'm sure that won't be too difficult for him." Dumbledore gently urged, effectively silencing Severus. He looked back to James and Albus. His eyes twinkled beneath his glasses. "Now tell me, what are your names?"

"James Sirius Potter." James uttered it proudly. Severus looked horrified. It was two of his worst nightmares, combined into one. Albus watched, nervous. He cleared his throat.

"I'm Albus… Severus Potter."

The reaction was instantaneous. Severus's eyes popped from his sockets in a very comical, cartoon manner. Dumbledore's eyes filled with tears and emotion.

"I am honored." Dumbledore murmured.

"Huh?" Severus looked lost.

"My dad said he named me after the two bravest men he ever knew." James glanced at Severus and scoffed.

"Really?" Severus paid no heed to James's doubt. He sounded light-headed. Albus met the portrait's gaze confidently.

"Yes. That's why I wanted to meet you. Alone. With no one else watching."

"Oh…" Severus still sounded muddled. "Well…I suppose we could talk…for a couple minutes – that wouldn't be _too_ dreadful."

They all stood in silence.

"You have green eyes." Severus's voice cracked.

"I'm the only one of the three to inherit them."

"Three!" Severus echoed.

"Our younger sister." James explained. "Lily."

"Lily." Severus choked.

"Lily Luna." Al added, "She'll be here in two years. She's got red hair, but she has our mum's brown eyes. And our mum's temper."

"Miss Weasley, I presume?" Dumbledore's smile was playful.

"Well she's Ginny Potter now." James grinned goofily, "But Hermione kept her last name."

"I'm sure Mr. Ronald Weasley didn't mind too much."

"Not at all. He said he was in love with Hermione Granger and always would be."

"They reproduced?" Severus's expression soured slightly. Dumbledore chuckled, before slyly adding, "Say hello to your friends for me. Miss Rose Weasley and Mr. Malfoy I believe?"

"How'd you know that?" James and Al exchanged a wide eyed look.

"We are rarely sleeping Mr. Potter. Old dead codgers like us are irredeemable gossips. And I do exchange words with your father every so often. My portrait is in many places. Including a girl's bathroom. I only ever went to it once – quite by accident I assure you! The elderly lady's scream was enough to deter me for the rest of eternity."

"You already knew!" James was amazed. "About me and Al and Lily!"

"I didn't." Severus grumbled. "You know I don't appreciate surprises much Dumbledore."

"I thought you already knew!" Dumbledore teased, "With how much everyone's always talking about them around us. You lot can't seem to leave the professors alone! Learning of your daily exploits, Mr. James Potter, are always a highlight to my morning. Miss Barjati – Sara, I believe – does come in here every so often. She usually comes to give her opinion on things she thinks should be changed and added to the school. She has some interesting ideas - I feel bad I didn't think of them first."

"Insufferable know-it-all." Severus interjected, "Thinks she knows what's best for this school, and doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut! There's reason I try to tune most of it out."

"How dare you insult her? She's brilliant!" James retaliated fiercely. "She's already ten times better for this school than you ever were!"

"James!" Albus elbowed him, "Sorry professor. She is a great girl though. Maybe you would like her better once you got to know her?"

"I have no desire to." Snape's tone was clipped.

This silenced the rest of them.

"Well, we should be going." Al piped up. James nodded vigorously.

"Wait!" Severus was alert again. "Mr… Albus Potter…though I do not condone nightly escapades…I do not think I would mind speaking to you again."

Al stared into the painting's pained eyes. "I might." He replied quietly. "Mind I mean. I'll try not to." Severus nodded sharply. Al paused.

"I'll be back." He decided.

"I hope you don't mean at night. Because I can only turn a blind eye when someone breaks into my office so many times." Al and James whirled around. There stood the Headmistress, not in her nightgown, but her ordinary robes.

"How long have you been here?" James blurted out. Professor Stonebrooke raised an eyebrow.

"It didn't strike you as odd that my door was open Mr. Potter? Surely you don't think I'm that careless?"

"Are you expelling us?" Al sighed.

"Not today. I knew you were coming. And for some reason I can understand why you would want to. But sneak into my office again, and expulsion will be the least of your worries."

James didn't move.

"It was Sara, wasn't it?"

"Get lost Mr. Potter."

It wasn't Sara. But that didn't stop James from accusing her the next day.

* * *

It was Christmas. Soft white snow tumbled from the clouds. The cold cradled them in a blanket. They wore scarlet jumpers and mitts and thick, woolen socks. They had paper cuts along their fingers from wrapping presents. Al and Rose got plenty from random strangers, which they said they always donated to charities. Scorpius got some too, but he learned not to open them, after the first one was found to contain a baby blast-ended skrewt (Scorpius was sure someone had turned a blind eye when checking the packages entering the school).

They were on the train back to their homes for the break. They were sitting in the same compartment they had been on the first journey to Hogwarts. Al and Scorpius were playing Gobstones. They both had purple liquid dripping down their chin. Rose was reading a muggle book Sara had recommended her.

"So you're coming, right?" Al looked up hopefully.

"Of course he is! Why wouldn't he?"

"Rose," Scorpius sighed, "I'd like to. I really would. But it's not that easy." Rose snorted.

"Of course it is."

"No, it isn't. My grandfather is going to be there. I've only met him a couple times in my life."

"That'll be a fun reunion." Al giggled, "Hey Gramps! As much as I'd like to stick around and hear your tales about Azkaban and all the bonding sessions you had with the other Death Eaters, I kind of promised my best friends I'd go over for dinner! Who are my best friends? Well, only the children of Harry Potter and his friends, the exact same people who're the reason you went to Azkaban in the first place!"

"Al," Scorpius sighed, "Please shut up."

"You have to admit, that should be enough to get rid of him for good. We should do that to Aunt Muriel. Can't believe she isn't dead yet. Maybe telling her we're BFFs with a Malfoy will do the trick."

"Al!" Scorpius moaned, burying his head in his hands.

"When did you meet him before?" Rose asked.

"Well he did switch sides at the end of the battle, so he had a much less strict sentence. They let him leave some days in a year and come have dinner with us, without any supervision. So I did see him a bunch of times every year."

"What was it like when he came?" Rose put her book down. She leaned her head against the fogged up window. Her russet curls were tied back in a careless ponytail. She was lost in a wide maroon jumper that had belonged to her dad. It extended down to her knees. Below were loose fitting jeans and sneakers. Al was dressed in a gray sweater vest and black pants beneath it.

"Silence. Lots of tension. Grandfather – "

Al snorted. "Grandfather. So formal."

"The Malfoys never fail to adhere to decorum." Scorpius repeated what he had heard his grandfather say many times.

"Minus the whole sorted in Gryffindor thing?" Rose brought up sweetly. Scorpius cringed.

"Yeah. That." Al's head snapped up.

"Wait…does your grandfather know about…?" Al gestured with his hands.

"That I've been sorted in Gryffindor? He wasn't supposed to. But I'm pretty sure there were plenty of Death Eaters in Azkaban who were eager to inform him." Rose winced.

"Either way, no one's mentioned it in any letters. Grandfather… you'd think he'd have changed a lot, but he hasn't. Like, he knows the days of glory for the Malfoys are gone, but he still believes in it. Like he's not going to make a plan, and he really will never do anything, but he still feels the Malfoys were unfairly wronged. He still expects the family to feel the way they used to about muggles and purity. He still has a vision of the prestige and supremacy and crap like that. He wasn't too happy about my father marrying my mum. She wasn't the daughter-in-law he had hoped for. But he probably understood by then that beggars can't be choosers. Either way, he's eager to remind us of the sentiments he has, and which he thinks we should have."

"What does your dad do? When your grandfather comes over?" Al asked.

"Not much. Like he listens, or pretends to. Nods his head. Occasionally, if Grandfather says something about my mum, dad will silence him. He only really speaks up when Grandfather turns on me. Like if he criticizes my education or expresses disappointment at what he thinks I'm becoming. That's when dad gets angry, or refuses to listen. Once he even walked out of the room. But for anything else…he's just so used to putting up with it."

They sat in silence. Scorpius was suddenly scared. Scared again that they'd judge him, hate him, leave him. It might have been an irrational fear, but he couldn't escape it. Memories always became knives you felt could be used against you at any moment.

"Our grandfather usually gives us a speech about rubber ducks." Al waited for a response. Rose smirked.

"He'll hear it himself when he comes over." Scorpius groaned, but was relieved too.

* * *

They went their separate ways once they got off the train. Rose and Al gave him a quick hug before rushing into their sea of relatives. Scorpius watched as Rose left her trolley and burst into a sprint. She squealed as she leaped into her dad's arms and he spun her around, laughing. Al and James both rushed and simultaneously wrapped their arms tightly around their younger sister. Both of them were soon lost in the tide of red. He pulled his gaze away.

His father stood stiffly, a little awkwardly. His mother was standing there with her hands clasped firmly together.

He walked calmly towards them. His mother drifted forward, her face filled with longing. She was struggling to hold herself back. Suddenly he couldn't bear it. He raced toward her, and she broke away and ran to him. She pulled him into her embrace, grasping him fiercely and placing kisses upon his head. She began running her hands through his hair, rubbing circles around his back. She smelled like lavender. The rest of the roaring world around them fell away.

"Oh Scorpius." She sighed into his hair.

"I'm right here mum." He whispered into her ear. "You don't have to worry anymore."

She reluctantly pulled away. Tears were teetering on the edge of her lashes. She was struggling to form words. "Your hair's longer…" She pushed a fringe off his forehead, her fingertips lightly floating over his skin. Scorpius leaned forward and placed a kiss upon both of her cheeks. She inhaled deeply, and leaned her forehead against his. She smiled- the exact same one that Scorpius would receive when he looked in the mirror. He looked so much like his father, but the smile – it's warmth, it's honesty – that was hers.

"Go say hello to your father. He's been very impatient to see you. I'll get your stuff."

His father stood tall, and if not with pride, with dignity. His eyes look lost and tender. He clutched his cloak close to his chest. He didn't move a muscle, but waited for Scorpius to come to him. Scorpius didn't even bother with pretense. He wrapped his arms around his father's waist and buried his face in his chest. Draco momentarily stiffened, before abandoning decorum and hugging him back.

"I've missed you Scorpius." His father's voice, struggling to maintain an even tempered tone, shook with emotion.

"I missed you too." His father cleared his throat and pulled away, but his eyes told Scorpius he didn't want to. He patted Scorpius lightly on the head a couple times. Scorpius suddenly wanted to laugh. He had never noticed the formality before. But now, after spending months with the Weasleys, it felt like the most obvious thing in the world.

"I'm not a dog dad."

"Sorry." Draco coughed. "I'm just not… there are many people here." And many people were watching them.

"There's not really much they can do."

"No, but I don't want us to be a spectacle." Draco's voice lowered slightly.

"Not really much we can do either."

"No, but… we'll talk more at home." Scorpius nodded. His mother was soon at his side with his trolley. She put an arm on his shoulder and placed another kiss upon his head.

"Ready to go?"

"Um, well…" Scorpius glanced backwards.

That's when Rose skipped over. "Hello Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy!" She chirped. She slung her arm around Scorpius's shoulder.

"Hello Rose!" Astoria smiled warmly, "Scorpius has told us so much about you and Albus." Rose's eyes shined. Astoria elbowed Draco, who was too busy staring in shock. He nodded hastily.

"Hello Miss Weasley." Rose giggled at the formality. She turned back to Scorpius's mother.

"Your son has to meet my family. And he's also going to come over on Christmas for dinner."

"Wait, Rose –" Scorpius glanced a little desperately back at his dad.

"Does he have much of a choice?" Astoria asked curiously.

"No." Scorpius admitted sullenly. Rose grinned, shaking her head.

"Then I don't think there's much I can do to stop that from happening!" Astoria laughed.

Rose grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back to her very large, very loud, and very intimidating family.

Al pushed his way towards them. He grabbed Scorpius's other hand, and they both dragged him towards two women waiting for them.

"This is my mum." Rose introduced. "This is Aunt Ginny."

"My mum." Al cut in.

"Mum, Aunt Ginny, this is our best friend, Scorpius."

"Hello." Scorpius had very pale skin, making his blush very prominent on his face. He mentally cursed himself for his painful awkwardness (and Rose because it was always easier to blame Rose). "I'm Scorpius Malfoy. But you probably know that. Should I apologize? I feel as if I should apologize. I'm so sorry for – " Rose's mum, Hermione, stepped forward and enveloped him in her arms. Scorpius inhaled sharply. She pulled away, beaming.

"If anyone should apologize, it should be my daughter for putting you on the spot like this."

"Guilty." Rose didn't sound very apologetic.

"We've been very eager to meet you Scorpius. We've heard so much about what a kind, smart, brave young boy you are."

"Oh, I'm not – "

"And modest too."

"…Thank you Ms. Granger."

"Hermione."

"Hermione." Scorpius repeated, coloring slightly. The woman with flaming hair and a playful smile (that reminded Scorpius of James) stepped forward. She also gave him a quick hug. Her eyes were bright and lively.

"Call me Mrs. Potter and I won't talk to you. You'll call me Ginny, and nothing else. Apologies are very foreign to me, especially when they aren't needed. I can't get James to apologize when he should be anyway. So if you say sorry for any reason, I will probably ignore you. Welcome to the family Scorpius!" She gave his hand a squeeze before calling her husband and brother over.

Ron openly goggled. Harry blinked, but quickly recovered.

"Hello Scorpius. Al's told us a lot about you. And Rose. We're glad to meet you." Harry gave a good natured smile.

"Hi…" Scorpius put every ounce of energy he had into forcing himself not to stare at the scar. Hermione attempted to discreetly step on her husband's foot (they were wearing jeans, and had never really learned the art of being subtle).

"I, yeah… hey Scorpius, I… blimey, I never thought this would happen to me!" Ron exchanged a desperate look with Harry.

"Ron…" Hermione sighed under her breath, massaging her temple.

"Uh yeah… please tell me you feel as embarrassed as I do?"

"Completely." Scorpius chuckled uneasily. Ron looked relieved. "But," Scorpius added, "Your daughter will probably never forgive us if we don't try to pretend this is completely normal." Ron grinned widely.

"That's something we can bond over! My insane daughter!" Rose huffed disdainfully.

"You kind of asked for this Rose." Scorpius reminded her. He turned to her father. "Did you know she dragged Al into my compartment, grabbed my hand, shook it, and _told me_ we were going to be best friends? I couldn't get rid of her after that, no matter how hard I tried!" Ron threw his head back and laughed.

"That might've been my fault. Sorry."

"It's fine." Scorpius looked him directly in the eye. "Al and Rose are two of the most important people in my life now. I don't know what I would do without them." Ron tilted his head, considering the blond boy.

"I'm glad." Ron said quietly. He extended his hand. Scorpius shook it.

And that was that.

* * *

Scorpius didn't meet the other relatives, but they did observe him with interest. He was now being forced to come to the Burrow for dinner on Christmas (when the Golden Trio tells you you're coming to dinner, you can't really refuse).

He returned to his parents. They began to make their way out. And there at the entrance, with shiny black gloves and not a hair out of place, looking as if he never went to Azkaban in the first place, was Lucius Malfoy.

* * *

 **I hope you liked that. I'm excited for the next chapter because you get to see more of the Malfoy family, and Scorpius also goes to the Burrow and meets the rest of the Weasleys. I know I'm spending a lot of time on first year, but I really want set the stage and help you understand all the characters before launching into the problems and conflicts.**

 **Thanks again for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following. I really love you guys!**

 **I have a goal… I want to try to get to 35 reviews before I post the next chapter. It would be nice if you could help me achieve that! But either way, even the smallest thing any of you says brightens my day.**

 **I remember someone asked about my updating schedule. Right now it's been summer so I've been able to update every week. But I'm starting grade 11 on Tuesday, and I'm also going into Full IB. I also have extracurriculars and I spend a lot of my time writing my own stuff (not fanfiction). But I won't stop writing this story, and I'll try to update every two weeks or so! Reviews also help with inspiration.**

 **Also, while James and Sara are a subplot, they are really important characters in the story. Sara has a bit of a complicated history we'll have to unravel.**

 **Lastly, I know JK Rowling told us a few days ago that James would start Hogwarts this year, which would make him in third year. I always assumed he was one year higher that Rose, Al, and Scorpius. So for the sake of this story, I'm going to keep going with the idea that he is in second year right now.**

 **Quote: Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover. ~ Mark Twain**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for the reviews guys! This chapter is dedicated to all of you!**

* * *

"I've been thinking…"

"Oh no."

"Tori, I'm serious."

"And there's a time when you aren't?" Astoria batted her eyelashes innocently.

"Astoria…" Draco clenched his teeth in frustration.

"Well go on, I never stopped you." Astoria returned to examining her appearance in the mirror. She smoothed down her hair self-consciously, mentally bracing herself for the dinner she would have to survive tonight. Draco was sitting on the edge of their bed with his shoulders slumped. His tie was loosened around his neck and his hair lacked the gel that usually kept it back. The thinning blond strands were like dry pieces of straw upon his forehead.

"Don't get angry. Just consider what I'm going to say."

"I don't like where this is going Draco."

"I've been thinking… Scorpius needs to see the Drawing Room." Astoria didn't even blink. She did not alter her nonchalant tone.

"And where on earth did you get such a moronic, pig-headed idea?"

"Astoria!"

"No, no!" Astoria turned around slowly, anger simmering beneath her words. "I'm actually curious. I am curious to know, what possessed you to even _consider_ showing our _eleven-year-old_ son a place which still haunts our dreams? That is a place where people were tortured and murdered, in case you've forgotten!" Draco bristled.

"How dare you even suggest that I could?"

"Well you must have! To even think about letting a first year boy see that place… I know we will have to show it to him one day, but that will _not_ be happening until he is seventeen at least. That room holds _pure evil._ The most depraved, nefarious men and women walked on that floor, blood painting their hands as they touched those walls."

"Astoria, we wouldn't have to tell him everything." Astoria's jaw dropped. Her eyebrows shot up into her hair. She brought her hands up unto her hips.

"Ohhh… That makes sense." She gave an exaggerated nod. "I get it now. You will show him a place where lives ended, where the blood from the neck of his best friend's mother is stained upon the carpet – where Hermione Granger's screams as she was almost tortured to insanity will forever ring against the walls. The place where Ron Weasley's desperate bellows to hurt him instead of the woman he loved will never fade. The place above the cellar where people were trapped in for weeks, wondering how many more hours they would live for, by then longing for death, hoping only that they wouldn't be burned alive. The place where Voldemort himself walked, giving orders to destroy more thousands of more innocent people, ruin millions of more lives, leaving a gaping in hole in every family." Astoria tightened her arms around her body, struggling to speak because of how hard she was shaking. She squeezed her eyes shut, continued, growing faint with, "The place where the most evil woman in the world howled with laughter as she killed an entire row of muggle borns with the single flick of a wand. The place they locked Fenrir Greyback in on a full moon, alone with some muggle born whose mutilated body they had to retrieve and toss out the morning after. The place where your father killed innocent people right before your eyes, because he was too scared about what would happen if he refused. But I understand… you won't… tell him everything."

"Please…" Draco was struggling for breath, wiping sweat off his face. It was not like Astoria to be this harsh or unforgiving in her reminders of these unrelenting memories. But she refused to to show this terrible world to her precious son. Draco pressed his hand to his forehead, his breathing laboured. They were silent.

"He will find out anyway." Draco rasped, "He will find out viciously, brutally. From a random stranger. From a vengeful, malicious student. From his friends. Who can he rely on for the truth if not us?"

"The truth! The TRUTH?" Astoria's eyes blazed. "The truth is painful and revolting… it is something that needs to be buried away to bring anyone peace!"

"It's something he needs to know!

"You want to destroy him!" Astoria burst into tears, turning away from her husband. Draco sighed.

"Astoria…" He rose and placed a tentative hand upon her shoulder. She angrily shrugged it off. She bit into her wobbling lips, burying her sobbing face into her hands. Draco looked around at the empty room helplessly.

"Astoria… you know I only want the best for Scorpius… but…"

"He'll hate us." She wept. "He'll hate _you_. He'll hate _me_. He'll look at us like everyone else does! He'll see us for the monsters we are."

"He won't hate you." Draco replied monotonously. "You did nothing."

"Exactly!" Astoria shrieked, shoving her hands into her hair. "I did nothing… people were dying, and I. Did. Nothing. I walked around with my nose in the air, pretending I believed what I knew was destroying people, destroying the _world_ … Scorpius isn't like us! He's brave…righteous…" Astoria's face twisted in agony. "He never would have done what we did."

Astoria raised her face slowly, hiccupping and grasping for breath. "One day he'll know. One day he'll leave, and he won't. Come. Back. I'm not ready for that I'm… not… ready…"

"You think I don't remember!" Draco snarled, yanking the sleeve of his shirt up to reveal the grotesque creature, forever branded onto his skin, forever burned into his soul. The green serpent, with long silver fangs and hideous green skin. "Every second of my life." Draco hissed. "And you think I don't know that one day, my son will hate the very sight of me? You think I don't remember every time he smiles at me with that love in is eyes, that someday very soon he will curse my name and spit on my feet? No – it's worse than that. He would never do it. He isn't like me. He's _good_. He'll remain by my side, remembering at every second what a cowardly beast I am. What a cowardly beast has for a father." Draco raked his hands through his hair, pulling at them savagely until pain pierced his scalp. Astoria watched, her face emotionless.

"Remember when his wand chose him?" Astoria suddenly smiled fondly, "In Ollivander's? Remember how his eyes began to sparkle? Remember the laugh that escaped his lips because he couldn't help it? Remember the shine he had on his face when he saw the owls? How he tenderly extended his finger and caressed their beak." Astoria replicated the action with her own, captivated by the memories. "Remember his gasp of wonder when he saw the brooms on display? When he licked the ice cream melting off his cone, when he walked down the aisles of book, dragging his fingertips along their spines? Remember his awe as we walked down the street? At all the people, all the magic! He was enraptured!" Astoria giggled. "You know what that was… it was magic."

"Yes." Draco croaked. "I do. Oh, I do…"

"He believes in the world Draco. He believes in it's beauty, it's goodness. We don't anymore. We can't, after what we've seen. But he _does_. I won't let you take my son away from me. I won't let that light in his eyes die. I won't steal his innocence. I can't." Astoria held her husband's gaze, determined. "And don't even think of going behind my back. Because if you do, God have mercy."

Draco nodded.

* * *

Scorpius was seated beside his trunk, emptying it's contents unto his bed. His walls were empty, and the furniture was a plain dark brown. Nothing in the room gave any indication of the boy it belonged to. Except for Harmen, who hooted from the side.

At the bottom lay his photographs. He gently pulled them out, examining each one individually, careful not to crease the corners. The longer Scorpius was back at home, the more and more Hogwarts felt like a dream. The laughter and happiness felt like a fantasy created by his imagination.

He stared at the last photograph. He had been taking a picture of Rose and Albus, but at the last second they had pulled him in. They ended up taking a selfie of the three of them with Scorpius in the middle. They had cheeks flushed red and their Gryffindor scarves around their neck. Snowflakes decorated their hair, glittering like diamonds. They all had wide crooked smiles.

Slowly, Scorpius pulled himself up, grabbing his wand from his bedside table. He muttered a sticking charm and climbed unto his bed. He pressed the photograph to the piece of wall above his bedpost. He sat back and watched them laugh, over and over again. No matter happened in the future, they would always be laughing together in that one picture.

He heard his parents shouting from their room. Their words were nothing but incoherent anger to his ears. Scorpius sighed, rubbing his face.

* * *

The polished wooden table was a rich chocolate brown, the top covered with a pristine white tablecloth. An elaborate silver centerpiece held several wax candles, whose light was not subtle or comforting, but weak and anxiously fluttering. It was one of the few remnants of the Malfoy Family's ancestral wealth, which spent most of it's time gathering dust in a cupboard. But they always made an active effort when Lucius came for dinner, for a reason none of them completely understood. Sometimes, it was just easier to give Lucius Malfoy what he wanted and expected. Astoria wore the only expensive dress robes she owned, made of maroon colored silk. Draco had bought it for her years ago. She had wanted to reprimand him for this unnecessary expenditure, but after raising her head and looking into his wide, hopeful eyes, she could only open her arms and envelop him in her embrace. She worked as a nurse at St Mungo's, but was almost always denied promotions and higher level jobs entrusting her with more responsibility (even though she was one of the most dedicated nurses they had), a fact she had come to accept and focused on working around.

Narcissa sat dutifully at her husband's side, her face forlorn and empty. Her face seemed to be composed of thinning scraps of skin, fragile as tissue, stretched tight over pieces of protruding, prominent bones. Her hair was now white as snow. Her eyes seemed to have melted away over the years. Indeed, she looked as if she was disintegrating, disappearing. Beneath the burden of memories, or the guilt, or the exhaustion. But when she glanced towards Scorpius, she would momentarily solidify, as if her existence now depended upon nothing but him.

Tension scuttled over everyone's necks, draping their conversation. No one made any remarks about Scorpius's sorting or friends. All were hoping for the dinner to pass with little conflict, even if that meant with little enjoyment. Narcissa made small inquiries about Scorpius's classes, uttering soft, warm praises that made him blush. They sat in the Main Dining Room.

Lucius sighed with frustration when he drained the last of the wine from his glass. He struggled to turn in his seat with irritation to the small, good natured house elf standing by the doorway into the kitchen.

"Get me the wine jug." Lucius snapped with his fingers a couple times, glaring. "What are you waiting for! Get me a glass of wine you pathetic piece of incompetence!" Scorpius gasped, shocked that his own grandfather could treat such in innocent creature in such a cruel manner. The House Elf bowed hastily, turning away quickly, tears beginning to tumble from her large, earnest eyes.

"Wait Binky." Astoria placed her wine glass back upon the mahogany table. Binky froze mid-step, her back turned away from the rest of them. Astoria raised her eyes to meet her father-in-law's. "In this household," She began firmly, "We treat our House Elves with respect and dignity. As long as you are present here, we expect you to do the same." Lucius snorted.

"Do you pay them too?" He smirked sardonically at Scorpius, who didn't return it.

"Yes we do." Lucius's laughing lips twisted into a sneer. Draco glanced down at the table, breathing heavily.

"Of course you do." Lucius leaned back in his chair, disgust swimming across face. "Of course. I don't know why this surprises me." Narcissa stiffened beside him. She reached over and lightly rested her hand upon her husband's.

"Lucius," She whispered, "Maybe this isn't the time…" Lucius shoved her hand away. He leaned forward, glaring into Astoria's unrelenting eyes.

"What other changes did you decide to make to my house while I was gone?"

Astoria leaned forward, undaunted and unflinching. "Whatever Draco and I felt was necessary to change." Lucius snorted, his lips shriveling with distaste.

"You mean the things you coerced my son into accepting."

"Your son, as shocking as it may be to you, is completely capable of making his own choices in life. Anything he did, he did with his own free will." Scorpius stared intensely at his father, begging him to say something or stand up for himself. Draco kept his eyes firmly fixed upon his plate. Lucius's eyes were scornful.

"You took advantage of my lack of guidance to ensnare him. Trap him into what he didn't understand was not good for him."

"Father." Draco spoke the word sharply. The following one was more pleading, "Please." Astoria released an undignified bark of laughter. She fell back against the back of her chair, crossing her arms.

"Oh yes! Of course! It was all part of my plan to entrap your son… that makes sense! Because of all the people I could choose to trick into marrying me, I would definitely choose the most defamed and disparaged man of all. I obviously benefited greatly – now I'm part of one of the most evil, untrustworthy families in England! Looks like my plan worked!" Astoria giggled.

Draco gasped, his face crumbling. His knife and fork slipped from his hands, the sound they made as they hit the ceramic plate echoing through the silent room. Scorpius's jaw dropped. Astoria's eyes widened, shocked that she had uttered what the rest of them knew to be the truth. She whirled around in her chair and grabbed her husband's limp hand, frantically shaking her head. She cursed herself a million times in her head. Draco wouldn't meet her anguished eyes. Lucius paid no heed.

"And look at what you have done to your son!" Lucius waved his manicured hand wildly to Scorpius. "Look at how you have polluted his mind! Look at the things you've taught him! The image is pierced into my brain – "

"You have one?" Astoria's eyes did not waver from Draco's face. "That's a surprise to me."

" – My grandson, the Malfoy heir, hugging and laughing and _fraternizing_ with blood traitors and mudbloods!" Lucius spat the words, as if they burned his tongue. " "If I had been present in his upbringing – "

"But you weren't." Scorpius's words were as light as a feather, but they somehow struck everyone's ears with the force of a Church bell. "You weren't, because you were locked up in Azkaban, as a result of _your_ upbringing. Because of the things you were taught, and the principles you lived by." Narcissa whimpered, grasping her husband's sleeve weakly with her skeletal hands as he leapt up, his chair screeching as it skidded back against the floor.

"How dare you you speak to me in such a way!" Lucius fumed. "Thankless boy!" He roared. Scorpius was unperturbed. He tilted his head with curiosity that only incensed his grandfather further. "You have a duty to uphold to this ancient family! A responsibility to his noble predecessors! You will one day inherit – "

"Inherit what!" Astoria threw herself up, knocking back her chair. The back broke off with a thunderous _crack_ as it hurtled onto the ground. Scorpius squeezed his eyes shut. Astoria's entire body smoldering with outrage. "Uphold what!" She shouted, tears streaming down her face. "This family is _dead,_ the values you lived by are _dead,_ the world you wanted is _dead_. What do you even hope to accomplish by this hatred anymore? What are you even fighting for anymore! No one is winning Lucius! Everyone is _losing…_ People _died_ Lucius, people _died_! And you know…you _know_ … most of you died with them too." Astoria fell to her knees, burying her head into her arms upon the table, the cloth now stained with sauce and wine and tears. Binky rushed to her beloved mistress's side, drawing her gently away from the . Astoria fell into her tiny house elf's arms, clutching the creature's delicate body fervently. Draco stared vacantly at the wall, at something only he could see. He didn't seem to be comprehending the confusion around him. Scorpius willed himself to move, but he was frozen to his seat. His ears were ringing. He was drowning… suffocating… The world around him was spinning and screaming and sobbing and pleading and it Just. Couldn't. Stop. They were lost in the smoke of memories, unable to discern the present from the past, the future nothing but darkness. They were eluding the shadows of what they used to be, chasing dreams they doubted could even exist, running into the arms of the people they were trying to escape. Themselves.

Hysteria blazed in Lucius's eyes. "It is the way it is supposed to be!" But even he was having trouble believing it. Lucius licked his lips, his pupils darting back and forth. "It is the way it should be! The only way… it _can_ be… What else could it be?" Lucius's voice died in his throat. He began to stumble back, grappling backwards for his chair. He fell into it, sighing with relief.

"You're scared." Scorpius spoke up suddenly, his eyes alight with clarity and understanding. "That's it. You're all scared. You all want to be different. You do. But you don't know how. And for you, Grandfather, the easiest thing is pretending you don't want to."

"I know what I want!" Lucius bellowed, grasping for oxygen as he did so. "I know what I want! I know what is _right_!" Lucius choked on his words. "I would never have dreamed of being as impudent and to my elders. It's all your fault." He spat again at Astoria.

"That's enough." Scorpius rose to his feet and walked until he was right in front of his grandfather. Lucius's eyes were bloodshot. His face was rough. He flinched when Scorpius came close. He was scared, wanting desperately to take his grandson in his decrepit, dying arms. Because even though he didn't show it, he was in awe. He was in awe, and he was proud. Proud that he had lived to see a Malfoy who was brave enough to stand up for what he believed in. For what was right. Now venerable and frail, with nothing more to lose, Lucius still did not have the strength he saw in his grandson. The strength to be better. Scorpius's eyes were unforgiving, and there was no love in them. Lucius was a little bit glad. Glad that he would not be condemning a good man to love a creature as foul and wicked as him. Maybe that was the one good thing he had done in his life.

"Enough." Scorpius breathed, power trembling through his words. "You will never insult my mother. You will never insult my father. You will never insult my friends. You will never hurt my family."

There was a pause.

Lucius nodded. And as he did so, he realized that Astoria was right.

He was already dead.

But then again, had he ever really been alive?

* * *

Their words were tenderly floating, drifting upon the soft darkness. Scorpius leaned forward, closer to the crack in their door, feeling them gently slide down his face. The only light was that of the moon in his parent's bedroom, splaying carelessly unto them.

"Astoria, you have always known… you knew when you were marrying me, that I am not a good man." Scorpius could imagine his mother shaking her head upon his father's chest, smiling softly as she did so.

"I don't believe that. A scared man, yes. A weak man, definitely. But you are still a good man."

"If I am not even brave enough to stand up for the most important people in my life, the only people I live for, how can I be a good man?"

"Because you never stop trying to be."

"You were wrong you know. About me being able to make my own decisions. I can't. I am too scared."

"You underestimate yourself Draco."

"No. You just see me as more than I am."

"What is this Draco? What is this life you are living? Is it not your own choice?"

"You remember Astoria. I tried to run away from you. When you told me you were pregnant. For a whole month, I was gone."

"You wanted to protect me. Me and Scorpius. I wouldn't let you."

"No. I was too scared of the person I would have to be, the person I didn't think I could be."

"You left Draco. But you came back."

Scorpius leaned away. He treaded lightly, attempting to make no sound as he returned to his bed. He imagined his father's horrified face when his mother told him they were having a baby. He imagined his mother on her side, completely awake when Draco climbed out of their bed and didn't return. The discovery didn't upset him as much as it should have. His father was scared, but he came back anyway. That was all there was to it. Scorpius had been important enough for him to face his fear.

A couple moments later, the smell of lavender drifted into his nose. He was enveloped in his mother's soft arms.

"I love you Scorpius." Astoria's breath tickled his ear. "I'm so proud of you."

"Why?" Scorpius breathed. "I've had it easy. I've never had to fight to be good."

"But you have. Oh, my darling, you have."

"Mum, you and dad _chose_ to be good."

"No, we didn't. Once you were born, it was never a choice."

"I'm proud of _you_ mum."

"One day you won't be."

Scorpius pulled away. Astoria's deep blue eyes rose and plummeted like the waves of the sea.

"Yes I will."

Astoria slowly shook her head, and nothing Scorpius said could dissuade from her belief.

* * *

"I can't do this."

"Yes you can."

"No I can't."

"Yes you can."

"I _can't._ "

"Well it's too late to back out now. They're expecting you."

"I don't think they'll be that disappointed if I don't show."

"How will Rose and Albus feel?"

Scorpius groaned.

* * *

Scorpius wasn't religious. He wasn't even sure if he believed in a higher power. But standing there upon the welcome mat of the Burrow, he prayed to every deity he knew existed. He even began praying to Zeus and the Sun God of the Ancient Egyptians. He was currently begging Poseidon to create an earthquake that would destroy them all when the door swung open.

Rose was once again wearing her father's old maroon jumper. Her frizzy curls were in two messy ponytails, their tips just brushing against her shoulders. Freckles filled her shining cheeks. He grinned as she launched herself into his arms, squealing. Astoria smiled discreetly into her gloved hands.

"You came!" Rose pulled away, beaming.

"Trust me, I'm just as surprised." The house behind them was full of noise and color. His own house had been so empty and pale. But hers was full of screaming and laughter and chaos. Suspended above them were colored lights, and beyond that was a deep, darkening blue sky.

A younger girl with flaming red hair and dimples, skipped up from behind Rose. Lily Potter, with butterfly barrettes in her hair, peered curiously at Scorpius.

"Oh!" Rose stepped away from him, putting an am around her younger cousin. "Scorpius, this is Al's sister, Lily." Lily waved enthusiastically.

"Hello Lily." Lily leaned into Rose's ear, speaking loud enough for Scorpius and his mother to hear.

"You were right. He's cute…" Lily simpered sweetly. Scorpius blushed slightly. Rose gaped, her eyes gone wide.

"I said no such thing!" But Lily was already gone, giggling. "She knows I never said that!"

Scorpius coughed. "Don't worry, I know."

"And to think," Rose huffed with her hands on her hips, "Uncle Harry still thinks she's a little angel. We better hope she doesn't start to have any plans for world domination– she's got The Chosen One wrapped around her little finger." Rose suddenly straightened up.

"I'm sorry! You're both standing out in the cold! Come in!"

"Oh no," Astoria chuckled, "I really must be going. What time should I pick Scorpius up?"

"We're usually up until three on Christmas Eve." Astoria blinked, "But if you want to pick him up earlier, that's fine." Rose added hastily.

"I'll be here at eleven." Astoria nodded, squeezing Scorpius's arm in reassurance. He leaned up and kissed his mother on the cheek.

"Have fun!" She whispered. Rose pulled Scorpius into the house when she was gone, closing the door behind them.

* * *

"Scorpius!" Al rushed up from one of the couches and embraced his friend. Before Scorpius could protest, Al had grabbed his hand and yanked him to the center of the living room, a small space overflowing with redheads.

"HEY EVERYBODY!" Rose shouted. The noise slowly trickled away until what seemed to be a hundred pairs of eyes were staring up at Scorpius. He gulped. Rose and Al each grabbed one of his arms and linked it with theirs.

"This is our best friend, Scorpius." Al's eyes twinkled. Rose nudged Scorpius's foot with hers.

"Hello." Scorpius attempted weakly.

Silence.

"…the Malfoy?" Someone asked. Rose snorted.

"Do you know another Scorpius?"

"Hey Scorpius!" Fred called from the side.

"How're you doing?" James was actually smiling with encouragement.

"Good." Scorpius felt queasy.

More silence. Scorpius wanted to disappear. The Weasleys began exchanging glances of uncertainty with each other.

"I'm sorry!" He blurted out. Many looked taken aback.

"For what?" Lucy was a timid girl, and seemed shocked by her own boldness.

"I don't know… existing?" Scorpius shrugged sheepishly. A chuckle rippled over the crowd.

That's when Ron Weasley raced into the room.

"I never thought I'd see the day when you lot were actually quiet!" Ron froze in his tracks. He scratched the back of his head with confusion. The tips of his ears were red. "Oh... hello, Scorpius."

"Hello." Scorpius sighed.

Ron cleared his throat. "How are you?"

"I was pretty good. Then your daughter decided she wanted to be my friend."

The entire room burst out laughing. They resumed their conversations, and Scorpius was forgotten. Ron grinned, before returning to the kitchen.

Albus turned to the blond haired boy, who was feeling slightly more relaxed. "I have to go ask my mum something. I'll be back in a couple minutes. Rose'll take care of you." With that, he disappeared into the crowd.

Albus obviously did not know his cousin very well. Apparently, neither did Scorpius. He was currently thanking the Lord he was not alone. He really shouldn't have spoken too soon. He should have realized by now that the universe took great pleasure in making the exact opposite of what he was expecting happen.

"Well I have to go do… something. I'll be back in a bit."

"Wait… are you leaving me? Alone?"

"… I'll be back in a couple of minutes. Meanwhile, you can go meet the rest of the family!"

"No! Rose, don't you DARE!"

"Bye…" Rose waved and started backing away.

"No – Rose I will never forgive you for this! Rose!" Scorpius lunged for her arm, but she was already gone. Scorpius stumbled, accidently bumping into Louis.

"Oi! Watch it Malfoy!" Louis glared at him before sprinting away. Scorpius groaned.

He wasn't even sure _why_ he was friends with a girl so unconcerned for his well being.

* * *

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 **"Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten." ~ Neil Gaiman**


	8. Chapter 8

Scorpius had experienced a great number of unexpected events over the course of the last few months. He had befriended a both a Weasley and a Potter, been sorted in Gryffindor, and was probably the first Malfoy to develop a passion for photography.

But this was by far the weirdest.

"So how do you feel about rubber ducks?" Scorpius stared.

"Uhh… rubber ducks?" Arthur Weasley nodded solemnly.

"One of the greatest examples of Muggle brilliance."

"Well…I haven't really thought much about it. But…they're ducks… and… I like ducks." Arthur nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

"Remarkable. Truly remarkable!" He breathed in awe. "With what simplicity the muggles create such a mesmerizing tool of both enjoyment and practicality!" He squeezed the object, giggling at the squeal it made. He squeezed it a couple more times, his eyes gleaming with what Scorpius could only describe as insanity. Arthur's tufts of white hair were sticking in several directions, making him look even more like a mad scientist. Scorpius appeared to be slightly wary. Arthur gently placed it back in the red toolbox that was at his feet.

"Yes. But…" Scorpius began with hesitation, "I've always been rather amazed by their creativity and imagination." Arthur raised his head, curiosity flitting across his face. Scorpius licked his lips and continued.

"I mean... we have magic. We know it exists. They don't. They've never really seen anything magical or any creatures with special powers. No spells or wands. But they can still create these beautiful stories with amazing, breathtaking worlds we with magic have never thought about. And like you said – they create so many ingenious devices to function without magic- like electricity and microwaves. They've trained their minds to think in a million different ways – even without magic. It's like… they still believe in a kind of magic, even when they've never seen it. They don't need proof to hold onto their faith and hope. I've always found that… a little amazing." Scorpius looked down at his hands, his heart beating fast.

Arthur began nodding in agreement, his wrinkled face shining. "Very true, very true… I've never thought about it like that! You – you're a Malfoy, you say?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Where did you learn about electrikity – "

"Electricity."

"Yes, electricity and microwaves?"

"My mother. She told me all about them growing up. We went to muggle stores too." Scorpius had always found it funny that it was only the muggles who had treated him well, the people the Malfoys never had.

"Oh yes! What is her name again… Azalia?"

"Astoria."

"Astoria! I do recall seeing her. We've talked several times, whenever we meet in Diagon Alley. She's a wonderful woman. You're very lucky to have her as a mother."

"Yeah. I am." Scorpius uttered quietly. Arthur's face softened. He bent down and pulled another object from his toolbox. Two hard red things on a white, plastic stick.

"Do you know what these are?" Arthur asked eagerly.

"Those are lollipops, aren't they?"

"Yes!" Arthur's eyes were as wide as child's in an ice cream store. "Lollipops!" He repeated, playing with the sounds of the word. "Cherry!" Scorpius chuckled. Arthur's genuine joy at the tiniest of things was infectious. It was as if everything in the world was a miracle. Scorpius could suddenly find himself agreeing that there was nothing more beautiful and precious as than this tiny lollipop. All his problems were insignificant when he compared it to the power of a lollipop. He took one from Arthur, who had already ripped the wrapper off his and was licking furiously.

"See Molly!" Arthur grabbed his wife's arm as she passed by, sticking out his tongue to show her. "Muh thung's reh!"

"I see that Arthur." Molly shook her head fondly. Then she noticed Scorpius. "Arthur! Think of how awkward our poor guest is feeling!" Arthur blushed, quickly putting his tongue back in his mouth.

"Oh no!" Scorpius assured them quickly, "It's fine. I think I did the same thing to my mother when I first had one."

"Don't be polite dear. You'll learn Arthur often needs reminding of how to act in the company of others," Arthur shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Guilty. Sorry Mollywobbles." He kissed his wife on the cheek.

"Arthur!" Molly blushed and quickly hurried away. Arthur grinned.

"I should probably go help her. I'll see you later Scorpius." Arthur suddenly became serious. "We're all very glad you're here." He squeezed Scorpius's shoulder before hurrying off with his toolbox. Scorpius shifted awkwardly. Then he felt as if he was being watched.

Scorpius slowly turned, taken aback when he saw a pair of wide brown eyes, swirling with curiosity. The boy's face was a few inches from his, thoughtfully examining Scorpius. A fringe of thick, burning red hair fell unto the boy's forehead. In his hands he clutched a colorful comic book, coated with gloss, but full of creases and folds.

"Hello." Hugo said softly, unperturbed. "Have you watched Star Trek?"

"Oh! Um… no." Hugo suddenly glared.

"Are you a Star Wars fan?" His voice was hard.

"No…?"

"Good." Hugo was once again calm and cheerful. This was not how Scorpius had imagined first meeting Rose's brother. He had expected death threats, but not because of Star Wars.

"What do you know about outer space?"

"Um… it's black?" Hugo's eyes lit up.

"No, it's filled with stars! Burning balls of gas! Bigger than anything we could ever imagine! And then there are planets – some are red, some are blue, and some have storms that go on for years!" Hugo fell on the couch, his hands buzzing with excitement. Scorpius was reminded of Arthur. "There are black holes that suck you up and stretch you like a noodle and there are rocks that hurtle forever, and everything is revolving around something, which is revolving around something else, which is revolving around something else, which is revolving around something else! And it's HUGE!" Hugo shivered in amazement. "Our world is a million times smaller than a speck of dust in comparison! Can you imagine it! And guess what? Guess!"

"What?" Scorpius smiled.

"It's getting bigger!" Hugo sighed with amazement.

"Really?" Scorpius's heart was warmed by the boy's animated expression. "That sounds amazing! Tell me more."

"You want to know?" Hugo asked shyly.

"Of course!"

"Well, there are aliens. I mean, we haven't discovered them yet, but think about how huge the universe is! We're nothing! In a world so enormous, of course there are other living creature! And guess what?"

"What?"

"They could be anything! They could be purple or green or blue or a rainbow! They could move things with their mind or have some special power even we don't have! They could be twenty feet or twenty centimeters! They could have fur or be made of jelly or have sixty fingers or armour beneath their skin! They might not even have skin! They could be anything! ANYTHING!"

"Wow." Scorpius breathed. "You're right. Anything's possible." Hugo nodded vigorously.

And at that moment, it really felt like anything was.

* * *

Molly Weasley was a whirlwind of activity and emotion. Her hands flew between a million tasks over the span of a couple seconds. She was cooking thirty chicken pies while she fried the potatoes upon the magical stove and chopped three vegetables and dumped sauce into the noodles, the dishes washing themselves behind her. She was using her wand to clear away the accumulated items upon the tables and chairs. Her hair was a fading red, streaked with silver strands. While parts of her were visibly deteriorating, her body seemed to be as strong and robust as it was years ago, shouldering the endless tasks upon her shoulders of steel. Her voice was still powerful, which was rather shocking to most people, because she had probably been using it without break for fifty years at least.

"Fred! James! Come back with those this instant! Don't even try talking yourself out of this one James, your innocence doesn't fool Luna Lovegood, much less me. Don't think I didn't see the dung bomb you stuffed in your pocket George! I want those out of the house in the next thirty seconds. Wait a minute Lucy, I can't leave this soup right now. Molly, but that book down and help your sister! Molly! Oh Fred, do something useful and help Lucy!" Something exploded on the other side of the house, momentarily shaking the foundations of the Burrow. No one but Scorpius even blinked. Angelina sprinted in and grabbed Fred by the ear, pulling him out into the living room. James ducked behind a plant. A timer went off somewhere. Molly sighed, wiping some sweat off her wet forehead.

Molly shoved a plate into his hands, not looking up to see who she was talking to. It was loaded to the brim with piles of potatoes and meats.

"Go put that on the dining table we just moved into the living room. If anyone touches it, giving them a good whack over the back of the head."

"Oh! Um… sure…" Molly's head snapped up. Her eyes widened.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" She apologized, trying to take the plate from his hands. "You're the guest! You shouldn't be doing that!"

"No, no!" Scorpius objected, stepping back so the plate was out of her grasp. "It's fine. I want to help."

"Don't be silly dear." She reprimanded kindly, placing her hands upon her hips. "We're not such bad hosts, to the point where we'd make our guests do the work!"

"Really, I don't mind." Molly stared, shocked despite Rose and Al's constant assertions by the generosity of the Malfoy boy. She quickly recovered, praying she didn't appear to be judgemental or rude.

"Well fine, but first take a bite to eat." She reached over and picked up a fresh, steaming sausage from another platter. Scorpius's mouth watered as it's delicious aroma rose into his nose. She grabbed his other hand and placed the beautiful piece of meat into it.

James ran past them. Then he stopped and slowly stepped backwards. He flashed his grandmother a winning smile, one that never failed to make almost every girl in his year giggle and blush. Sara usually snorted.

"Do I get one grandma?" He pouted his lips. Molly raised her eyebrows and placed her fists firmly upon her hips.

"Maybe if you help us set the table." James considered the proposition.

"No it's okay, I'll just steal one from the platter once Scorpius puts it down. James winked at him, laughing as he scurried off, ducking away from his grandmother's outstretched hands.

"Insolent boy." Molly muttered, but she shook her head fondly all the same. Scorpius chuckled softly. Molly grabbed another platter in one hand, balancing four more chicken pies on both of her arms.

"Unfortunately, he's not lying." Molly seemed unperturbed by Scorpius's amazement. "And there are plenty more ravenous animals who I could never seem to teach manners to."

They forced their way through a throng of Weasley's gathered in the dining room. Molly brushed her hands upon her apron once they placed the food upon the table. All eyes were fixed upon them, waiting for the warden to leave the room so they could pounce.

"Where's Albus?"

"Talking to someone."

"And Rose?"

"She's trying to force me to make friends." Molly smirked.

"How's it working out for her?"

"Well I just had a very scintillating conversation about rubber ducks with your husband, and Hugo just gave me an explanation about aliens and stars, which is a bigger success than I had expected." Molly threw her head back and laughed.

"Forgive Arthur. He doesn't seem to realize that not everybody is as insane as him. Hugo takes after him a bit in that sense."

"No, I liked it! They're… passionate. They… care about things. I guess… that's the way it should be." But even as he said it, Scorpius remembered how much the Death Eaters had cared. How deeply Lucius and Bellatrix and Voldemort had felt. But it seemed difficult to remember evil in a place overflowing with so much warmth and love. Molly considered the earnest blond boy. Her heart began to ache for the sadness in his eyes and the sweet softness in his face. She opened her arms and engulfed him into them. He stiffened, gasping slightly. She held him tightly, and Scorpius felt as if he was truly being accepted into this world.

Finally, she pulled away, brushing the hair off his face with her cool hands. "Go and enjoy yourself, I'll handle the rest of the food."

"Who's going to guard it all?"

"Oh don't worry. They know better than to mess with me."

Decorations covered the walls of the room. Lights hung from the ceiling, the charmed candles floating beside them. A huge tree towered in the corner. It was covered with gold and silver tinsel and countless handmade ornaments. A bight glow surrounded it. Scorpius's eyes drifted over the room.

Victoire was resting upon the couch in the corner with her legs pulled up to her chest. Her hair was in an elegant bun and her diamond engagement ring glimmered upon her finger. Teddy sat beside her with his arm around her shoulders, a bottle of butter bear in his otherhand. Across from them on the footrest, Dominique sat with her legs crossed. She wore an old, stained T-Shirt and sweatpants. Her boy cut had grown slightly, so she had to push the hair off her eyes occasionally. She listened eagerly as they described their wedding plans for when Victoire would graduate. Victoire craned her neck up and pressed a kiss to her fiancé's cheek. Dominique laughed when Teddy's hair turned pink.

Fred and James sat huddled against a wall, in deep discussion. Their eyes were focused upon a piece of parchment. James was furiously scribbling on it with a quill. Louis was watching over their shoulders, his lips growing into a grin. Scorpius didn't doubt that the three of them would disappear after dinner, most likely to be found in the vicinity of another explosion.

Lucy, with her blond hair in two ponytails, sat with a storybook in her lap. Her demure voice swam over the colorful pictures. Lorcan and Lysander, both soon to be seven years old, were enraptured. They clung unto her every word, amazement washing over their faces every time she turned the page.

Bill, Charlie, Audrey, Angelina and George were all gathered in a circle upon another set of chairs, gulping down bottles of fire whiskey, bellowing boisterously and roaring with deafening laughter.

Molly II was crouched upon the stairs in the darkness, occasionally lifting her face from her book to glare when the noise rose. Roxanne was braiding Lily's hair, and eventually both of them leapt up and ran to Molly. They forced their hands into her hair, ignoring her surly protests. The book was thrown aside, forgotten (not that Molly had been paying much attention to it anyway).

Percy was babbling to Hugo about cauldrons, not caring if the child was listening or not. Hugo's gaze was clear and sharp.

"Psst!" Scorpius tilted his head, wondering if he had imagined the sound.

"Psst! Scorpius!" Was he going insane? Had some Weasley cousin spiked his drink?

"Oh for goodness sake!" A familiar voice snapped. Rose stomped up behind him, grabbed his arm and pulled him to the stairs where Al was sitting.

"Well, look who decided who finally show up." Scorpius crossed his arms, miffed.

"Sorry Mr. Melodramatic, it took longer than we thought." Rose huffed.

"Maybe we shouldn't have left him alone." Al grinned. "It seems like James has already began rubbing off on him."

"Hey!" Scorpius felt slightly offended. "You two are the ones that ditched me. You know how awkward this has been?"

"Last time I checked, you were talking to my brother about aliens."

"Still." Scorpius glared. "I did not appreciate that one bit. You're supposed to be my friends." Rose and Albus had already stopped paying attention.

"Come on!" Rose grabbed Scorpius's arm. "We have something to show you!" She grinned eagerly. Scorpius tried to remain angry, but it was difficult to when he stared into her shining eyes.

* * *

They took him to the attic. The beams of the roof hung low. In a few years, they would have to hunch over to avoid hitting their heads against them. It was cluttered with boxes and tiny chairs and garbage bags. Everything was coated with a layer of dust.

"Welcome to the Weasley Family Land Fill." Albus presented it proudly, waving his arms dramatically. "Every useless keepsake that should have been thrown out years ago ends up here." Scorpius coughed.

Rose dragged out a cardboard box, plumes of dust rising behind it. Albus picked up another smaller wooden box, the brown paint chipping away at the edges. Albus crossed his legs, ignoring the dirt that was gathering upon his hands. Rose followed, grabbing Scorpius and dragging him down with her.

"I can walk myself you know." Scorpius grumbled. Rose ignored him. She opened the box, squeezing her eyes shut when a cloud of dust rose up into her face. Scorpius leaned forward, curious at what items it contained.

"This was Aunt Fleur's wedding dress. Can you believe it?" Scorpius shook his head in disbelief, lighting running his fingertips over the delicate, shimmering fabric.

"Why's it here?"

"Misplaced probably. They'll probably come up here and find it one of these days when they need it." Albus reached in and pulled a brown, leather diary out from it. Pages covered with illegible black ink were falling out.

"This was Grandma Molly's first cookbook, just after she got married. The first recipes she used. She transferred them to a new one later." Rose pulled out a large, golden ball.

"This was the golden egg from the Triwizard Tournament in our parents' fourth year. That was -"

"I know what the Triwizard Tournament was." Scorpius's hand hovered over the dim, golden glow of the egg.

"Oh!" Rose giggled, pulling out a fraying piece of atrocious fabric. "Guess what these are!"

"Is that a dress?" Scorpius wrinkled his nose as he examined the lace. Albus guffawed, choking on his own spit.

"These were my dad's first dress robes." Rose whispered, eyes glittering. Scorpius's eyes snapped open.

"Oh." Scorpius managed. "Was your grandma that angry at him?"

"Bet you mum stole them from the trash can. Probably figured she wouldn't get any better blackmail than that." Albus snickered into his hand.

"Oh! And look at these!" Rose grabbed a couple journals from the box. "These are dad and Uncle Harry's divination dream diaries. And their homework. They're the funniest thing in the world. Especially their predictions of the future."

"The scariest thing is that they sometimes, in a weird indirect way, came true." Al shivered.

"Mum kept all her notes from every class. I have all of them with me. They're better than the textbook."

"Bet you they were her bed time story growing up!" Al snickered. Scorpius shook his head in mock anger.

"You have an unfair advantage over me! You have _Hermione Granger's_ notes. No wonder you got one percent higher than me on the Transfiguration essay!" Rose shrugged, smirking.

"Life's not fair."

"Oh! Here's Uncle Ron's chocolate frog collection." It filled an entire box of it's own. "We could sell these for thousands of galleons." Albus gazed wistfully.

"I think all the stuff here is worth millions." Scorpius pulled out a torn, fluffy pink dress from the box. It would fit a six year old. "What's this?"

"A girly thing grandma once tried to force mum into."

"Why is it burnt?"

"I'm pretty sure Aunt Ginny had to put up a fight." Rose said. "Aunt Molly had gone through six pregnancies to get a baby that could one day wear that dress."

"What a disappointment mum must have been." Al snickered.

Scorpius saw many more items, small things from almost every Weasley member over decades.

"Victoire's first _Tales of the Beedle and the Bard_. Uncle Bill read her Babbitty Rabitty every night."

"Don't touch that! It's the Monster's Book of Monsters. It can bite your hand off."

"Old broomsticks! These are ancient! I think these were the ones when they were teenagers."

"Here are some beater bats! I think they were Uncle George and his brother's."

"A bunch of the original WWW products. The ones Uncle George and Uncle Fred were testing out in their seventh year."

"The original skiving snack boxes?" Scorpius was amazed. Those were legend. Albus nodded energetically.

"Here's a Potion's Textbook. It says… Roonil Wazlib on the inside…"

"Wicked! Uncle Bill's old fang earing! Wonder why he stopped wearing this."

"I think after being attacked by a werewolf, fangs lost their appeal."

"Uncle Percy's old Cauldron Bottom Reports. I should take a couple of these for when I'm having trouble falling asleep at night."

"Uncle Charlie's dragon figurines from when he was a kid."

Teddy's dad's old robes. Shabby and gray.

Sirius Black's leather jacket.

Tonks's compass she had probably never been able to use.

A whole box full of newspaper articles from the time the Daily prophet was calling Harry Potter a lying, attention-seeking prat.

Quibbler magazines, mostly nonsense, but some calling for people to stand up and fight Voldemort with Harry.

Old poems Arthur had once written for Molly, back when they were in Hogwarts. Arthur was certainly not a poet, but he was genuine.

Pictures of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Hundreds of them. At the Burrow, in the Gryffindor Common Room, in the Great Hall, on the Quidditch Pitch. Studying together, leaning on each other, running together, laughing together, yelling at each other, teasing each other. Loving each other. All the ones they hadn't filled in albums or framed on walls. They were probably only a few of the millions they had taken.

"Look at these." Albus lifted the lid from the box he had been holding the entire time. More pictures. Only random, insignificant moments, but they took Scorpius's breath away.

Lily with her hair in two braids, grinning widely without her two front teeth. James first riding his broom. Rose seated stubbornly with her legs crossed upon the grass. Her arms crossed and pressed to her chest. She had painted her face and dressed up. Teddy when he was fourteen years hold, blushing as he handed Victoire a rose. The Potter siblings in reindeer footie pajamas and red Santa hats, baking gingerbread cookies in the kitchen. James and Albus's hair white from attacking each other with flour, and Lily using Christmas tree cookie cutters. Roxanne and Fred, standing upon stools behind the counter of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, grinning as they shoved each other. Lucy cradled in her father's lap, listening as he read from the story book, her head resting upon his chest. James sprinting through the streets of Diagon Alley, carrying his squealing sister on his back. Albus and Rose, crouched behind a bush, eavesdropping. Hugo and Ron playing chess, both in deep concentration. Baby Molly waddling behind her Grandmother in the kitchen. Dominique drenched in sweat, her face red and panting, her beater's bat in one hand and her beloved broom in the other. Louis's face, filled with stickers and scribbled from scented markers. Roxanne painting her nails red. James and Fred pressed up against the wall, whimpering as Rose glares furiously, pointing her wand at both of them. Hermione and Rose drinking hot chocolate together, surrounded by piles of books. Ginny fixing a cut on Albus's knee, wiping the tears off his face. Fleur teaching her children how to dance, watching as they attempted to mimic her light, graceful movements. Roxanne and Fred, carrying boxes around the the storage room of WWW with their father. All the tiny children gathered around Uncle Charlie, listening with wonder to his stories. Molly and Arthur under the mistletoe, blushing as they quickly kissed, surrounded by the entire family that had begun with them.

"These are only a few. We all have albums full of them. No one had the heart to throw these away, so Rose and I took them."

"Wow." Scorpius breathed, running finger across their laughter, their smiles. "You've all… done so much."

"Not really."

"But… you've lived."

"What does that mean?" They didn't understand. They were confused. They didn't know what it was like to grow up existing inside a box of silence and fear. They had all grown up without limits. Without iron walls towering above them. Their lives were damp with vibrant colors. Scorpius's was empty and white. How could Scorpius even begin to explain it all to them?

"Well, you've… never mind." Al shrugged, placing the photographs back in the box.

Suddenly, they heard voices. Concerned voices. The hushed words adults used when they were speaking secrets they didn't want their children to hear.

"Quick! Behind the boxes!" Albus and Rose quickly leapt up and dived behind the cardboard boxes. Al yanked Scorpius by the arm. He tumbled over the boxes, landing on his face upon the wooden floor beside them.

"Smooth." Rose sniggered.

"What are you doing?" Scorpius hissed, wiping the dust off his tongue with his sleeve.

"Listening." Al winked.

"What? No, they might be talking about something important!"

"That's the point moron." Rose rolled her eyes.

"I don't think that's a very good idea."

"Never mind, I don't think James rubbed off on him that much after all." Al snorted.

"Shut up!" Rose snapped, "They're almost up." Scorpius attempted to protest, but quickly ducked down when Ron's bright red hair came in sight.

"There's been three, just in the past week. And all of them, the exact same mark left on their wrists." Harry was saying.

"Are you sure Harry?" Ron's voice was tight with tension.

"You know the facts as well as I do Ron."

"I know, it's just… blimey! I thought we were finally done with this stuff! I thought… I thought this… this fighting, this fear… I thought it was finally behind us." Ron's voice cracked. Scorpius could feel the pain resonating through his words.

"I don't think the world will ever be done with this stuff." Harry's voice was decrepit and weary, as if to be done with "this stuff" was a fervent dream he had abandoned long ago.

"But after Voldemort… after all that brutal destruction and carnage, I just… I hoped…" Ron's voice died in a sigh of frustration.

"It hardly matters." Hermione scoffed. "We'll always find our way to back to destruction. Humans is built upon hatred." Cynical pessimism laced Hermione's words. It created an image in their minds so far from the indomitable, determined woman they always saw. Rose shook her head with disbelief.

"That's not mum… that's not my mum!" She whispered earnestly, as if trying desperately to convince someone. Probably herself. Al shushed her, but his eyes were also broken with shock. Apparently, Ron agreed with his daughter.

"You can't say that Hermione!" The floor creaked as Ron moved towards his wife.

"Why not?" Hermione was struggling to hold back the emotion that threatened to pour from her mouth. "It feels so hopeless sometimes!" A sound echoed as she banged her fist against the wall in frustration. "I feel proud about doing something or changing something, but then I realize how futile it is! I changed a tiny law. So what? There are still millions of people who won't accept that I changed it, and refuse to understand why I needed to! They are still millions more I need to change to actually make a difference in someone's life! We all have to fight day and night for years to do a small thing that hardly benefits anyone! Fighting evil is like fighting a Hydra. You get rid of one enemy, but two more rise in it's place, each time more powerful than the last. It just feels so damn useless!"

"Hermione…" Harry attempted weakly, but he seemed unable to do anything but agree with her. This was not the case for Ron.

"How can you say that Hermione?" Ron exclaimed. "You of all people! You've made changes, you've made incredible things happen! You know it's possible, you've done it! How can you even begin to think that!"

"I know! I won't stop trying or fighting, you know that! But sometimes… sometimes it does feel like it makes no difference anyway." Hermione sighed. "There's always something terrible happening, something worse! What use is fighting something that can never be defeated. Fighting evil when it feels more and more like fighting…human nature."

"I know, love." Defeat filled Ron's voice. Between the crack of the door, they could see him gather her into his arms. She buried her head into his chest. After a few moments, Harry stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the both of them. They all stood in silence, replenishing their depleted strength from each other – from the love they had for each other.

"Hermione's right about one thing though." Ron began suddenly. "It doesn't matter. Because whatever it is, whatever happens, we'll fight it. Together. We'll do what we have to do. Like always. Nothing else to it. What do you say mate?" Ron cocked his head, tears shining in his eyes, and smiled at his best friend and his brother. Harry grinned, and behind the years of stress and war and fatigue, it was not difficult to see the eleven-year-old boy who once walked into Diagon Alley for the first time, completely in awe with magic.

"Sounds like a plan King." Ron turned to his wife.

"Well I don't think we can do this without the Brightest Witch of our Age. You're the brains. You in?"

Hermione straightened up, squaring her shoulders and raising her chin. Her eyes blazed with the familiar look of dauntless determination. "I believe I don't a have a choice. You two would end up screwing up in the first five minutes without me!"

"Hey!" Harry teased, "I'm Head Auror! Give me some credit!"

"I was Deputy," Ron reminded her, "Then I quit."

"Oh, so that's why I got a party invitation from the department the next day!"

"Shut up Hermione." But the three of them were chuckling.

"The sad thing – " Harry began morosely.

" – is that it's probably true." Ron finished sullenly. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to Hermione's cheek.

"You two refused to accept it for the longest time. I think it was the constant failure that forced you to realize it." Ron and Harry began grumbling in protest. They seemed to be enjoying it very much.

Scorpius shivered, feeling as if he was staring into one of the purest forms of love. Al leaned his head upon Scorpius's shoulder, grabbing Rose's hand at the same time. She pushed it away. Her eyebrows were scrunched together in irritation.

"But what's happening?" She demanded forcefully, struggling not to raise her voice.

As if she had heard her daughter's plea, Hermione asked Harry to repeat what he'd been telling them.

"Last month, they infiltrated the Department of Mysteries."

Scorpius gasped. Albus quickly shoved his hand over his best friend's mouth. Rose was trembling.

"Did they take anything?"

"No. And we never would have known that they were there if they hadn't left the object. The same object they've been leaving everywhere. It's strange. They've been kidnapping people all over the country, but they always return them within a couple days."

"They're creating a name for themselves. Making more and more people scared of them, scared of their symbol. Like Voldemort did with his name." Ron said.

"They're showing you what they can do. What they're capable of." Hermione added.

"That's not it. It's not even the worst part." He leaned in closer to them. Scorpius, Rose and Al held their breath. "When the people they take are returned – "

"DAD! MUM SAYS IF YOU DON'T COME DOWN FOR DINNER SHE'LL EAT YOURS FOR YOU!" James hollered. Harry sighed.

From behind the boxes, Rose growled. Albus glared at her, pressing his finger to his lips.

"We'll talk more later." Hermione reassured him. Ron nodded.

"After tomorrow though." Ron said. "After Christmas."

"Who knows what'll have happened after Christmas is over." Harry massaged his temple.

"After Christmas." Ron repeated forcefully. "Christmas is a time for family. The rest of the world can wait." Hermione wrapped an arm around her husband's waist, and Ron kissed the top of her head, slinging his arm over her shoulders.

"One last thing though," Harry sounded reluctant and wary. "I really don't want to do this, but it looks as if I'm going to have to. I've been trying to delay it as much as possible…"

"What?" Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"I'm going to have to add the former Death Eaters who were cleared to a suspect list."

"No!" Hermione and Ron gasped. "Harry, that includes the Malfoys."

"I know." Harry groaned. "I'm trying not to, but I really have no choice. It wouldn't be very long. Just a one-day search. I'll interrogate them myself, to make sure it's fair."

"God knows the history we have with Draco, but Scorpius is just a boy." Ron sighed. "It's not fair to put him through that, especially when we know for sure they're innocent."

"That's the thing though. We know that in our hearts, but we'll have to investigate all past offenders. Best to get it done quickly and quietly, before the press blows it out of proportion."

"DAD! UNCLE RON! AUNT HERMIONE! I CALL DIBS ON YOUR DESERT!" .

"After Christmas." Ron repeated.

"After Christmas." Harry agreed. They made their way down the ladder.

"Scorpius?" Al whispered tentatively. Rose reached for his hand. Concern filled their eyes.

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. They have to, it's their job. It's nice of them to try to avoid it, but they can't." He shrugged. "Let's go down, I'm starving."

* * *

"So Scorpius, are you an evil, bigoted psychopath?" George asked cheerfully while cutting a piece of steak.

"I don't think so." Scorpius put his fork down for a minute, pondering the question. "I'd consider myself more of a sociopath really."

"Oh that's interesting. It's sad really. Sociopaths are so underrated. They don't get the attention they deserve."

"I agree. It's a tragedy really."

"So are you planning on murdering us all in our beds?"

"Sorry, I don't have my notebook on me right now. It has a list of my potential targets."

"Does it also contain your plan for world domination?"

"Oh yes! It even has my ideas for what I will call the world once it's mine. Right now I'm deciding between Scorpiusland or Malfoy World."

"So would you use the muggles as your slaves."

"Oh yes, of course. They will be responsible for doing tricks for my entertainment. Jumping up and down, rolling over. Massaging my feet. The basic stuff really."

"I like you Scorpius."

"Thank you. Do you usually steal wallets from the people you like?" George grinned, pulling Scorpius's wallet from his pants and tossing it back to him. Scorpius caught it with ease. Charlie gave a low whistle.

"Nice arm."

"How do you like Hogwarts Scorpius?" Hermione asked kindly.

"I love it! It's incredible."

"How are you doing in your classes?" Ron asked, slyly sneaking a look at his daughter.

"I can't tell you that."

"Why not?"

"Rose might not be able to handle the reality of my marks being higher than hers. She's in denial." Scorpius mock whispered. Rose gasped. The entire table erupted into laughter.

"Yeah right! As if!" She whirled around in her seat and glared at Scorpius. He smiled cheekily. Everyone laughed harder. Rose was shocked.

"It's true!"

"Yeah right!" James called out, just to annoy her. Rose's ears turned red.

"Scorpius Malfoy." She gritted her teeth.

"You ditched me when I needed you most Rose." Scorpius grinned. "I'm not feeling the most merciful."

"I regret inviting you."

"I don't." Al smirked.

"I'm doing better than you in Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"I'm doing better than you in Herbology, Potions, and I am definitely doing better than you in Defense Against the Dark Arts." Scorpius retaliated.

"No you're not!"

"Yes I am!"

"I beat you on the essay!"

"1%. And I beat you on the exam."

"By two questions!"

"Victory is victory. Which is more than you can brag about."

"Won't stop her from trying." Louis snickered.

"I beat you on two homework assignments!"

"I beat you on three."

"Liar! Only one!"

"I blame Ron for this." Ginny shook her head with amusement.

"Guilty." Ron simpered. He didn't seem very remorseful. He seemed to be pleased with outcome, no matter how much he was beginning to like Scorpius.

"Admit it." Rose stuck out her chin. "I win."

"Sure, if you're alright with being comforted with a lie." Scorpius was starting to laugh now.

"Scorpius, you – " Rose tried to glare, but she contain the laughter that was beginning to bubble from her lips. Albus got up from his chair and put his arms around both of his best friends. Soon their stomachs were aching from how much they had laughed.

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance. It was like they were staring at themselves.

"We're really glad you're here Scorpius." Harry's eyes twinkled. Ron nodded. Hermione beamed.

"Trust me," Scorpius colored, staring down at his hands. "There's no where I'd rather be."

* * *

"Excuse me?" Molly flinched, dropping the plate she was drying. It shattered when it hit the ground.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Scorpius gasped, cursing himself internally.

"Oh, it's fine dear." She whipped out her wand and fixed the plate. "If I got so emotional every time someone broke a plate in this house I don't think I'd ever stop crying!"

"I was wondering if you needed any help." Scorpius scratched his ear awkwardly.

"Oh Scorpius, you've done so much for me already. Go have fun with the others!"

"I can help you dry the dishes! You have so much to do." Molly shook her head, a small smile on her face.

"Alright… but the next time you come, I expect you to leave your manners at home." She gave him a pointed look as she handed over the towel. Scorpius's heart lifted. She busied herself in another task.

"Do you know about Bellatrix Lestrange?" Molly suddenly asked. Scorpius's throat tightened.

"My mother told me about her. How… evil she was."

"She killed my son." Molly's voice didn't quiver, like Scorpius would have expected. It was cold with anger, sounding in a way that both scared him and shocked him. She rubbed the clean counter furiously with her cloth.

"…I… I know." Scorpius forced the words from his mouth.

"I killed her." She said it in a matter of fact tone. "I don't regret it one bit. I might even have enjoyed it, if I wasn't so consumed with pain and anger." She chuckled. There was no humor in it.

His hands trembled has he picked up another plate. "I don't either. I don't regret it. I'm glad – she deserved it." He licked his lips. "I… I know it's not worth much, but I'm… I'm sorry." Molly threw her cloth down. She stepped forward and hugged him fiercely.

"You don't need to be sorry. You've never needed to be." She pulled away and and cupped his cheeks in her hands. Her eyes were bright with warmth and affection. "And in this house, we will make sure you never are."

Scorpius was so overcome with emotion that he began to cry.

* * *

 **Thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! I'm so sorry I haven't been able to update! I hope this chapter makes up for it!**

 **Love you guys!**


	9. AN

**Sorry that this isn't an actual chapter. I just posted yesterday, and I definitely don't work that fast.**

 **I was in a rush yesterday, so I didn't get a chance to add this in my A/N.**

 **I wanted to give a special thanks to obsessedwithj123, glazedwater, baronnis, HopeWithinDarkness, creampuffs-and-fluff, Sam, SilenceIsCompliance, LillyMay7, Rockyrose13, Son of Whitebeard, todreamistobelieve, SelarahMorgan, lizzypotterfan, berryblood, chemrunner57, Manny654, Guest, BookLuvr9802, pottergrl, skinnyjeangirl, abishop47, Rainbow Lava Ninjas, MissesE, teenkitten765, Bianca, big sunglasses, KiraMizuKHR, DUDE SLAM, and Shetan20.**

 **These are all the people that have reviewed my story. Many of you guys have reviewed almost every time I posted a chapter! Thank you so much! I couldn't do this without all your love and support!**

 **Tell me if I missed anyone in that list.** **I'll try to get another chapter out soon, but it's a little difficult to maintain a steady schedule with school and homework.**

 **Quote: It's hard to beat the person that never gives up. ~ Babe Ruth.**


	10. Chapter 9

"Do I have to?" James groaned. He was currently seated on the floor of the Gryffindor Common room. He was playing exploding snap with Fred and Albus. Rose glared down at him with disapproval. She placed her hands upon her hips. Al raised his eyebrows.

"It was your fault James." Scorpius reminded him, flipping through a Quidditch book he had borrowed from Al. He was sitting cross legged on the chair James was leaning his back against.

"It's my fault that I'm in detention. It's not my fault she is." Albus snorted.

"I hate to break it to you," He told his brother, "But it kinda is."

"She followed me! I never told her to. I even tried to get her to leave me alone."

"James." Rose's voice began to rise. "Apologize." She demanded.

James put his hand to his mouth in mock indignation. "Or what?" His eyes gleamed.

"Well…" Rose examined the watch on her wrist, "I was planning on finishing my letter to Aunt Ginny tonight… there are a lot of things that have happened today, things I think she would rather like to know about…" She tapped her finger against her chin. "Wouldn't you agree Al?"

"Fine, fine." James threw his cards on the ground. "I get it. I'll go apologize to that harpy, even if it _was_ her fault."

He pulled himself up and dragged himself to the other side of the common room, where Sara was sitting alone, working on her essay.

"Uh… Sara?" James scratched his head sheepishly.

Sara grunted. She pushed a strand of her hair behind her ears. She hunched over, scribbling furiously over her piece of parchment. The tip of her quill broke off. Sara inhaled sharply, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to hold in her anger.

"I had something to say to you…" Sara lifted her head, a sunny, sarcastic smile filling her face.

"Well that's nice! Did you forget in the last 30 seconds?"

"Huh?"

"You said you _had_ something to say."

"Uh, whatever. I wanted to say that I'm – "

"A git? A prat?" Sara suggested. "A pathetic jerk? A spineless snake? Need any more suggestions?"

"No. I wanted to say that I'm sorry."

"Maybe you wanted to so you could get Rose off your back. But definitely not because you meant it."

"Look…I just thought…"

"Yeah, that's usually when things start to go wrong for you."

"I'm going to ignore that comment."

"Great. I'm going to ignore you. I hope you don't mind. But then again, you're used to people doing that." James clenched his fists.

"Oh, so we're describing your life now!"

"I wish! The day you start ignoring me is the day my dreams come true."

"Technically, it was your fault!" In the corner, Scorpius and Al exchanged an exasperated glance. Rose sighed, rubbing her temples. Fred grinned, pulling his legs up to his chest.

"Yes." Sara nodded her head slowly as if she was speaking to a child. "It was my fault you thought it would be a good idea to fill the entire corridor on the second floor with Cornish Pixies. I suppose it was also my fault you thought it would be a good idea to do it just as Professor Madgewick was walking down it!"

"You followed me! Look, I just came here to apologize!"

"Only because Rose threatened you! It hardly matters to you that it's your fault I'm in detention!"

"You can't seriously blame me for Madgewick being a deaf and unreasonable bat!"

"No. But I can blame you for doing something so moronically pig headed that even your namesakes would be disappointed!"

"I wouldn't have been caught if you hadn't followed me." Sara slammed her book shut.

"You're still not listening to me! I knew Professor Madgewick was going down that corridor! I heard her tell Professor Lindsey. That's what I was trying to tell you before you released them!"

"Oh, so you were trying to help me!" James snorted.

"Yes! But you refused to listen, because you're too much of an arrogant prick to see anything other than what you want to and hear anything above your own stupid voice that never shuts up!"

Fred sniggered.

"Why one earth would you try to get me out of trouble?"

"I don't know! I'm trying to figure out the same thing myself!"

"I don't believe you."

"Be my guest. I don't need to convince you of anything."

"Then why did you try to put all the blame on me when Professor Stonebrooke asked what happened?"

"Tried to put? It was the truth!"

"Why can't you just mind your own business?"

"It's called _being responsible_. I won't even bother trying to explain it, you won't understand."

"Next time, don't try to warn me!"

"Don't worry, I won't!"

"Good. And stay out of my life."

"I will. Unless you're ruining someone else's."

"What is that supposed to – "

"Hello James."

Jenna Finnegan stood in front of them. She giggled, holding her books close to her chest. "I had a question." She blushed, glancing up shyly to meet his eyes. She had adorned herself in the way several preteen girls aspiring to be future homecoming queens did - with nail polish whose color alternated on every finger and lots of tacky jewellery.

"What is it?" James asked kindly, not understanding the reasons this girl was approaching him. One that were immediately evident to every other girl in the room. Sara raised her eyebrows in amusement.

"Well…" She twirled a strand of her hair with her finger. "I needed some help." She giggled again.

"With what?"

"…Transfiguration." She shrugged helplessly, smiling sheepishly. "I'm so dumb."

"That's not true." Sara suddenly raised her head, concern filling her face. "Don't convince yourself of those things. Eventually, you'll begin to believe it."

Jenna ignored her. She batted her eyelashes and flipped her hair. She had not yet perfected the technique. It was not as subtle and elegant as she would soon learn it was supposed to be.

"I can help you." James shrugged. "But for once, Sara is right. You're not dumb."

"For once?" Sara muttered, "That's one way you can tell he doesn't pay attention during class."

"Thank you James!" Jenna squealed, grabbing his hand and pulling him away. She smiled triumphantly at Sara over her shoulder. Sara shook her head with genuine disappointment over what Jenna was doing.

Jenna and Sara had not started off on the right foot. What Sara considered a trivial waste of time, and what Jenna considered a bitter rivalry (Sara would say in anything except what mattered), had begun on the first day of first year.

Sara had taken the bed beside the window. She sat down and stared up through it, into the vast sky and the millions of stars sparkling like crystals within it, enchanted and in awe. She would spend the next seven years staring up at them, drawing inspiration from them when she lacked in it. Sara was a writer.

Jenna had marched in five minutes later, intimidating all the other girls. Sara had not noticed until Jenna was right in front of her.

"Oh!" Sara got off of the bed. "Hello." Sara tucked her hair behind her ears and extended her hand. "I'm Sara. What's your name?" Jenna ignored her.

"I want this bed."

"…Excuse me?"

"You're excused. This is my bed."

"Well… I was here first…"

"Then move."

"…um…No?"

Jenna leaned closer. The other girls had exchanged fearful glances.

"What do you mean, _no_?"

"In my experience, no is a very black and white term. It only really has one meaning."

"I said, this is my bed!" Jenna had snapped.

"Yeah, I heard you. I was just confused about why you would say something as dumb as that. That obviously isn't true."

Jenna huffed.

"Look," Sara tried to compromise, "How about I take the bed now, and we can switch after Christmas."

"No." Jenna stuck her chin out obnoxiously. "I _want_ this bed." Sara's eyebrows shot up.

Jenna had believed that Sara Barjati would be an easy target to overpower. Sara refused to be underestimated, and was rather miffed Jenna had tried.

"Well," Sara leaned in even closer, to the point where their noses were almost touching, "You're _not getting_ this bed."

Jenna's eyes narrowed.

"You don't want to get on my bad side."

"I'll decide that for myself. Though to be fair, I'm beginning to believe that's the only side you have."

Jenna gasped.

Another girl gave a short chuckle. Jenna whirled around and glared. She closed her mouth and they all looked away.

Jenna looked backed to Sara, whose arms were now crossed. Reluctantly, Jenna took the last remaining bed, near the door. She wrinkled her nose.

Sara had hoped that would be the end of it. But it turned out that Jenna had developed a resentment. Sara did not realize that Jenna had been gossiping and spreading lies about her until Transfiguration. After Sara had gained thirty points for Gryffindor and Professor Turning had left the room, Sara heard a group of girls start giggling from behind her. The all looked down when she turned backwards, exchanging knowing glances. Jenna was at the center, her eyes shining maliciously. Sara had enough experience to know when girls were insulting one another. It was a game Sara had always refused to participate in. She turned away slowly, and the laughter soon began again.

"Hey Jenna?" Jenna turned, her radiant smile hardening into a forced grimace.

"Yes, _Sara_." She sneered when she uttered the name.

"I was wondering if you had considered my offer." All of her friends were silent now, curious to know what Sara was talking about.

"What offer?"

"To take the bed by the window after Christmas. Since I claimed it before you entered the room, I think it's fair that I get it first. But I am more than willing for you to get a turn."

The other girls gaped.

"Or do you still feel he same way you felt last night. That to share the bed would be… an insult to your pride or something?"

"You really offered that?" A curly haired Ravenclaw asked condescendingly. She had been very jealous had been able to answer questions she couldn't.

"Well yeah." Sara raised her eyebrows, "But I don't really see why you'd care that much about a random bed in Gryffindor tower."

Jenna was looking decidedly away.

"So?" Sara prodded.

"I'm fine." Jenna replied curtly. "You can take the bed."

"Alright." Sara shrugged casually. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Jenna's teeth were clenched.

"Okay. You're right – I'm making a big deal about it. It's just a random bed. It hardly matters." Sara shrugged.

Jenna's face had been sour.

"Because a random bed in Gryffindor tower is a rather silly thing to gossip and spread lies about. Wouldn't you agree?" Sara smiled sweetly.

Jenna coughed, not meeting anyone's eyes. "Of course."

To Sara's credit, she made effort to be kind to Jenna whenever she saw her after that. Sara did feel slightly bad about hurting someone, even if they very much deserved it. When some people started laughing at Jenna during lunch after that, Sara was the first to stop them. She was quick to reprimand anyone who mocked Jenna. She acquired respect from many because of this, but not from Jenna. Jenna eager to find fault in Sara, and possessed a childish jealousy over Sara's accomplishments.

It had taken the other girls a full day to realize Sara wanted nothing to do with their friendship. Jenna was a more enjoyable person to spend time with. Sara was perfectly content with remaining alone with her books, school, and writing. She was quick to voice her opinions, and was not intimidated by their annoyance when she did.

Now, watching Jenna's pathetic adoration, she felt both enjoyment when watching the stupidity, and annoyance over how she was portraying girls everywhere. Wasn't it funny how one girl often represented them all?

"Why do some girls do that?" She wondered aloud. Rose, Scorpius, Albus were now sitting beside her.

"Do what?" Scorpius asked.

"Make themselves less for a guy. Act less capable or less smart to pet a man's ego."

"They do that?" Albus laughed lightly.

"Duh." Rose snorted.

"Some men find it attractive. They like being in charge, and they like women who will make them feel that way, even if it's an over exaggerated inflation of their ego that they don't deserve."

"Should I be offended?" Fred asked.

"No. I said some men. Some men want it. Just like some women are willing to give it."

"I'd like to see men like that try it with our mums!" Albus laughed.

"I bet you a couple did. Bet they couldn't take their independence or intelligence for long."

"Of course." Rose glared at the ground. "Aunt Ginny and mum told me about being harassed at work, in both the Department of Magical Law and the Quidditch Pitch!"

"Imagine." Sara shook her head. "If two of the most famous and powerful women in the world can be harassed, imagine what it's like for other women with no power." She looked away angrily. "It's amazing in the wizarding world. Women have magic. Every last one of them can defend themselves. They can be just as powerful. But in the muggle world, in some places, it can be absolutely terrible. The discrimination and fear of rape. And imagine India, where a woman is raped every twenty minutes."

Rose examined Sara. Albus coughed.

"I feel like I should apologize."

"Why!" Sara was shocked. "There are 3.5 billion men in the world! Just because some of them discriminate, doesn't mean all of them to. And why would you ever feel the need to apologize for something you've never done."

"Stereotypes work against men too." Scorpius added softly, hating his own weakness.

"Of course they do." Sara kicked a sofa. "I don't think putting a group of people in a box they probably don't belong in ever helps anyone." She sighed. "If you lower your standards, no one's going to come and raise them for you. No one in the entire world will respect you if you don't respect yourself."

Scorpius smiled sardonically. "That's true. They either won't care –"

"Will be too scared to care – " Rose added.

"Think you're overreacting – " Albus whispered.

"- or will walk right over you." Sara finished. "You receive what you expect to receive, mainly because people are forced to give it to you."

* * *

Fred was talking to Professor Madgewick, and so wasn't at the Great Hall yet. Rose, Al and Scorpius were still at the Greenhouses. Sara was asking Professor Turning, the Transfiguration teacher, some questions. James stirred his bowl, bored. A boy in Albus and Scorpius's year slid into the seat across from him. He was wiping his eyes.

"What's wrong Nolan?" James was concerned.

"Nothing." The boy muttered.

"Oh come on! We're friends! You room with my brother. You can tell me."

"I'm so dumb."

"That's not true. It's only true if you want it to be."

"That's a stupid saying. It's not real."

"That's because it takes strength to believe in yourself. And most people aren't that strong. But you're a Gryffindor! You have strength in your soul! You are born with bravery in your heart!"

Nolan snorted. "Not according to Professor Madgewick. She says I'm hopeless."

"Nolan, if we began to believe everything Professor Madgewick said, we would think public hangings are an enjoyable pastime. Come on. Don't let that old bat get you down."

"I hate her."

"You speak for the masses Nolan." James began examining the rest of the people at the table. He caught sight of a girl with long, curly black hair.

Julianna was sitting alone on the edge of the table. She was a first year Gryffindor. Her shoulders hunched over. She was carefully putting grapes in her mouth, chewing them deliberately as she flipped the page of her book. James scrunched his eyebrows together. He tilted his head. He gestured for Nolan to follow him.

"Hello Julianna!" James plopped down on the seat beside her. She froze. Her eyes flew open. They were fixed on her book.

"How are you?" James asked cheerily, plucking a grape from her plate and popping it into his mouth.

"G-good." She replied. Nolan snickered. Her cheeks colored. James glared the younger boy.

"How was your day?"

"Al...al-alright."

"Just alright?" She gave a small jerk with her head in an attempt to nod.

"Well Nolan here didn't have the best day. The old bat Madgewick started insulting him."

"James Potter!" James imitated the woman's high pitched snarl. "Why are you turning my books into frogs?" James reverted back to his normal tone. "I told her I thought it would be nice for her to see what her children would have looked like if she had tricked someone into marrying her."

Nolan and Julianna both giggled. Soon, Nolan and James began imitating other people, each taking turns to guess. Julianna began laughing shyly behind her hands, wishing she could also open her mouth and let such cleverness flow from it.

"O-oh!" She giggled. "I-I h-have o-one."

"Let's hear it." James nodded kindly.

Julianna opened her mouth, but found herself unable to form coherent sentences.

Nolan sniggered. "I h-have a-another o-one." He imitated. "C-can y-you g-g-g-guess who i-it i-is?"

James chortled, not realizing this was no longer fun and enjoyable for the girl, whose face had crumbled. Her momentary hopes were dashed.

"I-I-I'm n-not s-sure." James grinned, thinking Julianna would more comfortable now that they were all joining in on her stutter. Julianna pursed lips, tightening her grip on her book.

Soon, more people gathered around, all doing their own impressions of her stutter. Some were so exaggerated and hilarious that the entire group, which had grown quite large, was thrown into uncontrollable fits of laughter. Julianna tried to smile and join in, but shame filled her body. She resented and blamed herself as she struggled to hold back tears.

"JAMES!" Sara shoved the other students aside, forcing her way to the center of the circle. She saw the wobbly smile on Julianna's face, and knew right away what had happened. "What are you doing?"

James rolled his eyes. "We're having fun Sara. I know the concept is foreign to you." The entire group laughed mockingly, adding their own jabs at the girl from India. Sara was undeterred.

"You're insulting her."

"N-no." Julianna chuckled shakily. "Th-they're not." She quickly grabbed her backs, saying she had a class to get to.

"Look what you did Sara?" James complained. "You made her feel bad. She wasn't embarrassed until you came along."

"James," Sara declared, "You are a first class git."

XXXXXXXXXXX

Julianna was the only girl in the washroom. The door of the cubicle was open. She was on the marble ground, sobbing into her hands.

"I'm u-u- use-useless." She gasped. "I-I d-d-don' b-b-belong in Gr-Gr-Gryff-ff—in-d-dor."

"That's not true." Sara sat on her knees beside her.

"E-eas-easy for yuh-y-you t-t-to sss-say." The girl looked away. "Y-you-you're n-not l-like m-m-me-e."

"I used to be." Sara said quietly. Julianna's eyes widened.

"Yuh-you?" She shook her head furiously, hiccupping as she did so. "Y-yur c-c-confident and s-s-s-sassy a-a-nd o-outsp-sp-spo-spoke-spoken…"

"No, I'm not. I pretend to be confident. I have to force myself to say what I think. In fact, you're way better than I used to be. Once, I couldn't talk to anyone. I couldn't look anyone in the face. I never said anything. Even when people insulted me. I didn't say anything when they made me do things I didn't want to do. They bullied me all the time, and I let them."

"Y-yur l-l-lying."

"No I'm not."

"R-really?"

"Yes. There's nothing wrong with being an introvert. With wanting to be on your own more than other people. I don't like spending time with other people that much. You just have to believe that what you are enough for yourself. That's you aren't any less because it's different."

"I-I-I c-c-can't b-be th-that."

"Yes you can." Sara grabbed Julianna's hands and pressed them to her chest. "It's hard. But you can, and you _will_. You are a true Gryffindor, more than Nolan or James will ever be. You are so, so brave Julianna. Just as brave as Harry Potter."

"D-don't be s-s-stupid. H-harry P-p-potter i-is – "

"How am I being stupid?" Sara demanded. "There is no one act that bravery is confined to. Bravery is doing things despite your fears. It is attempting to conquer them no matter how difficult that is. Harry Potter did that when he fought Voldemort. But you are doing that too. Every minute of every day. You should be proud of yourself."

Julianna shook her head while coughing.

"I'm not backing down Julianna Cadwell." Sara smiled, gently raising the girl's chin with her fingertips, "You are brave. You, just like him, are facing your fears. That takes strength."

"I-I'm sitting in t-the b-bathroom, c-crying a-and I-I s-still can't s-stop s—s-ssstuttering!" She yelled, smacking the marble wall. "I h-hate it! I h-hate m-myself!"

"Crying doesn't mean you're weak." Sara whispered. "Crying is what makes you human. What matters is whether you keep going. Not giving up even when you have every reason to."

"I am g-giving up!" Julianna pushed Sara away. She grabbed her bag and ran out of the washroom.

"No you're not." Sara whispered. "You won't let yourself, and I'll make sure of that."

* * *

Sara was seething. She was incensed. Apoplectic. Enraged.

And the person who was the cause of that, was the same person Professor Slughorn had decided he would pair up with Sara for a Potions project.

Sara had taken the matter into her own hands, and had finished most of it before James had sauntered into the common room.

"So… we should get started I guess." Sara didn't even look up.

"I already did." Her tone was hard, and James could not for the life of him fathom why.

"Ok…well, good for you." He shifted his weight on his feet, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "What have you done?"

"I finished the first ten steps." She carefully examined the pieces she had cut meticulously.

"Oh!" James's eyes widened. "You finished most of it. I could have helped."

"If that's what helps you sleep at night. But you probably wouldn't have been able to do much but get in my way." Sara muttered. Sara was shocked at her own uncharacteristically offensive words. She usually only insulted James in retaliation to his jokes. But she never, in her life, purposely tried to put someone down. But she kept remembering Julianna standing at the center of the circle of jeering, mocking faces. Sara could only watch as they crushed whatever confidence and hope for herself Julianna had left into dust. Their laughter surrounding her... overwhelming her. Deep in her heart, she knew James had not meant to hurt the girl. But she was furious that he had been so blind to the pain he had caused Julianna. And Sara already knew what it was like to be so scared, and so alone while trying to face that fear. She knew what it was like to be mocked for something you couldn't help, for something you were trying to fight. She knew what it was like when no one would stand up for you. She had that vowed she would never let someone walk over her, and had sworn she would never fail to defend someone else who was being walked over.

"That was uncalled for." James's eyes narrowed.

"You can think whatever you want to think." Sara snapped. "I'm not going to try and convince you otherwise."

"What is up with you?"

"Nothing."

"Obviously." He muttered, dropping his bag unto the floor and falling unto the couch. Sara wrinkled her nose, eyeing the loosely draped tie around his neck. "Well, we still have to do the report together."

"Wonderful! You remembered a homework assignment for once!"

"Thanks." He snorted. "I was feeling pretty proud myself." Fred was on his stomach on a nearby sofa, reading a Quidditch book. He smirked at James, who rolled his eyes.

 _'_ _Kill me now.'_ James mouthed to his cousin.

"I saw that." Sara carefully stirred the potion three times clockwise, once counter clockwise, completing the final step.

"Wow! You mean for once, you actually noticed how annoying someone finds you! I was beginning to believe you were blind!"

"You have ketchup on your tie." Sara retorted. She launched into her outline and plan for the written component for the project. She explained all the extra things she wanted them to do for it.

"Don't you think it would be easier to just – "

"Yes. It would take half the time. But it would only be half as good."

"It's unnecessary Sara!"

"Fine." Sara plucked the papers from his hands and tucked it under her arm. "I'll do it myself." James leapt to his feet, tripping as he tried to block her path.

"I never said that!"

"Don't worry, I'll put your name on it."

"No! I'd never do that! You just want an excuse to hate me."

"Trust me James. At this point, I don't need any excuses."

"Hey!" Fred was now playing with a rubber band. "You guys do know this gets boring after the first few hundred times, right?"

"Oh yes." Sara sneered. "And your entertainment is our primary concern."

"Why are you being such a control freak?" James growled.

"If I'm willing to do it all for you, and get a good mark, why do you care?"

"I'm not as bad of a person as you think I am."

"Are you sure?" Sara laughed cynically. "Because recently, I've begun to believe you're worse."

"You have no right to say that!" James snapped back, shocked by the sharpness of her words. "I am a good person!" He glared at her ferociously, not blinking. Sara didn't back away. She didn't even flinch. She took a step forward, until their noses were almost touching.

"Oh really?" She tilted her head, sneering.

"Yes! Better than you at least. But then again, being better than you might not be worth much." Sara brought her hands up to her hips.

"What about when you were teasing Julianna in front of the entire Gryffindor table?"

"That was just a bit of fun! She didn't mind."

"Yes she did! She was just hiding it."

"How do you know?"

"I was with her when she was sobbing in the washroom and insulting herself."

James's jaw dropped. "what? But… no one else noticed!"

"Most people don't care enough to. Especially when everyone around them sees no problem with it." Sara bristled. Her eyes were blazing. "She's terribly shy. She feels embarrassed whenever someone talks to her. And there you were – insulting her in front of almost thirty people!"

James was shocked. He stepped back, worried. "Are… are you sure?" Sara exhaled with frustration.

"After," She remarked coldly, "She said she hated herself and was giving up."

"You're lying!" Sara's jaw dropped. It was a well known fact that Sara was one of the most honest, trustworthy, and righteous girls most would ever meet.

"And what would I get out of that? It's not like you listen to me when I'm right, much less if I was making it up!"

James was now pale. Fred raised his head, his brow also creased.

"And the thing is," Sara's voice began to rise, "Is that you are actually one of the few people everyone else listens to. They look at you when they don't know what to do. They trust your judgements, your decisions. They like who you get along with, and dislike the people you don't. If you saw nothing wrong with insulting a girl who has a stutter and severe self esteem issues, they certainly wouldn't!"

"I…" James's breathing quickened. "I… I did that?" His voice had become weak.

Sara's face did not soften. "Yes."

"Where can I find her?"

"The library maybe. Why?"

James was already gone.

* * *

Julianna was walking out of the library. When she saw James, she lowered her head and tried to hurry away in the opposite direction. James intercepted. His face crumpled when he saw that her eyes and nose were red.

"I'm… I'm so sorry."

"Oh." She tightened the grip on her bag until her hands were white. Her neck began to glow. Her eyes began to blink rapidly. "It…" She took a deep breath. "I- It's…it's f-fine." She squeezed her eyes shut, lowering her head.

"I hurt you." She tried to shake her head, but she was shivering too hard.

"I hurt you." James repeated, his heart sinking deeper. Only know he registered the panicked look in her eyes, her trembling as she attempted a shaky laugh which should have been impossible to fool anyone. "I can't believe I did that to you." He pushed his hair back in frustration. She glanced upwards softly. She didn't say anything else.

"I'm so, so sorry."

"It d-doesn't m-matter." She reassured him quickly. "I… I d-don't care."

"Yes it does." James stepped forward, grabbing her hand.

"Julianna," He began earnestly. "You are an incredible person."

"P-please. D-don't l-lie."

"I'm not! It sounds stupid, but I thought you would feel better if you saw that none of us cared about your stutter. I thought you would feel good laughing about it with us."

Julianna sighed.

"It was stupid, I know," James continued, "I'm so, so sorry. You know, I wouldn't be able to be half as strong as you. None of us would be."

"P-please. L-leave m-me a-alone." She wanted to leave, and was already beginning to cry. She was too scared to break away. Slowly, James let go of her hand. She tripped as she began to run. She ignored James's attempts to help her up. Soon, she was gone.

"She's convinced herself she is weak." Sara was at James's side, her eyes were filled with anger at the world for letting this happen.

"No she didn't." James said. "I did."

Sara looked up at his face, which was now as hard and impassive as hers. James pushed past her. She was left to watch his restless, retreating figure. His head was filled with fury directed completely at himself.

* * *

The atmosphere grew tense as May approached. People began to become angry, upset, and the distinctions between houses became as prominent and apparent as ever.

On Saturday, the morning before the annual Remembrance Ceremony, Scorpius was walking down one of the halls alone. Cold, empty white sunlight poured through the windows, making him shiver. As he passed by a broom cupboard, he heard a sound. He carefully approached the door and quietly opened it.

On the floor was a twenty – two year old girl. She was clutching a picture frame, her knuckles white. Her head snapped up when she heard the door creak open. Her eyes were bloodshot. Water ran down her nose, unto her lips. She gasped, choking upon her tears.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Scorpius stumbled backwards. "I didn't mean to…"

The girl shoved the photograph into her bag. She hastily wiped the tears from her eyes. They were a light green – the color of dying grass. She furiously raked her hands through her tangled blonde hair, before abandoning her attempts to appear presentable. She quickly pushed herself up, wobbling on her feet as she did so.

"Are you alright?" Scorpius stepped forward, his hand outstretched. The girl hid her face behind her arm, shrinking away. She suddenly pushed Scorpius to the side, pausing for a moment before sprinting out the doorway.

"Hey!" Scorpius called after the girl. "Wait!" She turned around the corner, and Scorpius couldn't find her after that.

He later learned she was Charity Burbage's only daughter, who had been a couple years old when her mother was killed.

XXXXXXXX

Professor Lindsey's lips were tightly pursed. She stared stoically into the distance, her arms crossed against her chest. Professor Longbottom's wife gripped his arm tightly, burying her head into his shoulder. He held her desperately, crying into her golden hair. Professor Madgewick's face was fixed into a furious sneer. She glared at the Slytherin table for the entire time.

Teddy stood to the side. His hair was light brown like his father's. His face was heart shaped like his mother's. His eyes were squeezed shut and he breathed heavily through his nose. Victoire held his hand and rubbed circles on his back.

George ran out in the middle of the ceremony, his face damp with tears, his fist shoved in his mouth in an attempt silence the heartbroken sobs. Angelina quickly got up, ready to hurry after him. Percy grabbed her arm. He said a few words to her in a hushed whisper, before sprinting after his brother in her place.

Dennis Creevey's hands shook as he lifted his camera. He lowered it again, biting into his lips so hard they began to bleed.

Lavender Brown stood to the side, her scarred face glowing under the light of the candles. Her arms were wrapped around her daughter Jenna's. Seamus's hand was on her shoulder.

Fleur was tracing her finger over her husband's scars, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Harry went up to give his annual speech. Ron and Hermione stood on his either side. His soft, strong words here a pillar most held unto as he spoke.

Somebody kicked Scorpius's foot from behind. Scorpius ignored it. Someone pinched his arm. Scorpius squeezed his eyes shut. He knew it was Aiden Corner, whose parents stood on the side. Aiden looked back to his father, Micheal Corner, who gave his son a tiny nod. Marietta Edgecombe, his wife, wrinkled her nose with disgust at the sight of Scorpius's blond hair.

* * *

Scorpius had lost Al and Rose in the crowd. Suddenly, a man dressed in tattered, dirty rags stumbled up to him. He grabbed Scorpius's arm and twisted it. He squeezed it, ignoring Scorpius's gasp of pain. He yanked the twelve-year-old boy closer, and pressed his face close, so Scorpius could smell the alcohol on the man's breath.

"How dare you even come here." The man hissed. He dug his nails deeper into Scorpius's skin.

"Oi!" Ronald Weasley marched up to the man, grabbing him and pulling him off of Scorpius. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Harry was behind him, glaring fiercely.

"He's a twelve year old boy!" Harry snapped. "He had nothing to do with anything that happened 20 years ago!" The man's eyes glittered with animalistic insanity. He waved his finger wildly.

"It's their fault." He hollered.

Hermione was at Scorpius's side.

"Amos, stop this! You're better than this. You've been drinking!"

The man whirled around and spit. The warm, sticky saliva landed on Scorpius's nose. It slowly trickled down. Harry and Ron pulled him away. All Scorpius saw was the man's singleminded fury, all directed at him.

"He wasn't a bad man. He isn't." Hermione put her arm around Scorpius's shoulder. She shook her head in resignation. "His wife died last year." Hermione remarked sadly. "She was the one that kept him going after their son Cedric died. You can't even recognize him these days."

XXXXXXXXX

Al stood outside the hospital wing, watching Madam Pomfrey.

She moved from one place to another, picking things up for a couple seconds before putting them. She straightened pillows and smoothed down the sheets on the bed. She whipped out her wand, casting enchantments that seemed to have little affect on the already pristine Hospital Wing.

"Madam Pomfrey?" Al approached the woman with hesitation, intimidated by her impassive face and

"Yes?" She snapped. "Are you hurt?"

"Um… no."

"Then what are you doing here? This is the Hospital Wing, not the Common Room for goodness sake!" Madam Pomfrey rubbed her wrinkled face. Her eyes were sunken and buried beneath bags. Wisps of gray hair escaped her bun, which she pushed aside in irritation. Exhaustion clung to her weary body. She looked as if she was on the verge of collapsing, and was focusing all her remaining strength in hiding the fact from everyone else.

"I… I just…I…"

"Please Albus…" She sighed, leaning her weight against the cabinet. "If you're not hurt…"

"I'll leave!" Albus reassured her immediately. He quickly turned and ran from the Wing. He stopped when he reached the doorway. He turned slowly.

"You're going to sleep now though, right?" Madam Pomfrey squeezed her eyes shut.

"Maybe." She replied.

"But you're tired! You need rest! You need to – "

"Please Albus!" Al nodded hastily and ran out. From the corner of his eye, he saw her sinking into one of the beds, her face buried in her hands.

* * *

Afterwards, the three of them lay on the Quidditch pitch. They lay in a circle, their heads together at it's center. They were sucking on bars of chocolate as they talked. The sweetness melted on their tongues. The moonlight streamed over their faces. Countless stars shimmered above them in the sky.

"Aries." Rose pointed.

"Perseus." Al mentioned.

"Cannis Major." Scorpius added.

"The Big Dipper."

"Casseopia."

"Orion." Scorpius chuckled.

"My entire family's in the sky. I'm staring up at my ancestors."

"There's Sirius." Al grinned.

"The brightest star in the sky." Rose whispered.

"Andromeda." Scorpius crossed his arms, shivering as a gust of wind flew over them.

Albus propped himself up unto his elbows. He squinted.

"There's Bellatrix."

"It means Female Warrior."

"She really took that to heart."

"There's Draco."

"It means dragon." Scorpius laughed softly, remembering his father's slumped shoulders, his face buried in his hands, his hair almost white in the darkness.

"And Scorpius." Rose grinned, pointing upwards.

He groaned. "I can't believe I'm named after a scorpion in the sky."

"You know," Al tilted his head and squinted. "It looks a bit more like a leaning palm tree than a scorpion."

"That's really comforting Al. I'm named after a palm tree in the sky."

"I don't know why you're complaining. I'm named after a greasy git who bullied my family for seven years."

"He did save their lives in the end."

"Yeah, I guess. But he's still greasy. And he's still a git."

In the distance, Ron, Harry, and Hermione stood together on one of the towers. They watched over their children.

* * *

 **Thank you so much! I passed 50 reviews. Thanks for all your support!**

 **I hope you enjoyed seeing more of Sara and James. Please don't take their confrontation as veiled passion, or as romantic. James genuinely did something mean with good intentions, and Sara was making sure he understood. Don't blame him too much.**

 **I am aiming for 65 reviews, and it would be great if you could help me. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

 **PS. I'm from India, so some things I mention through Sara are from personal experience and through my eyes. Just thought you should know.**

 **Also, first year is over!**

 **Lastly, Please tell me whether or not you like Sara and James - I am very curious.**


	11. Chapter 10

**This the summer!**

* * *

"JAMES! ALBUS! LILY!"

There was no reply.

"COME DOWN HERE!"

Still nothing. Harry sighed, scratching the back of his head. He exchanged a frustrated look with his wife. She pursed her lips, suppressing a giggle.

"Can't say I blame them." Her eyes sparkled. She was wearing a long red skirt that fell past her knees, and a jean jacket above that. Lines creased the edges of her eyes, forehead and face, but in spirit and energy she appeared and felt as young as she'd always been. At the present moment, Harry wished he could say the same about himself.

"Yes, but we don't have much of a choice now, do we?" He turned back towards the staircase.

"WE'LL BE GOING TO DIAGON ALLEY – "

The three of them came bounding down the stairs, pushing and shoving each other to get to the door first. They screeched to a stop in front of their amused parents.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!" Albus grinned.

"Quality Quidditch Supplies!" James pumped his fist.

"Ice Cream!" Lily squealed, clapping her hands as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

Harry leaned down and pressed a kiss on both of his daughter's rosy cheeks.

" – _After_ ," He watched his children's faces fall, "We visit your cousins and Uncle Dudley."

They immediately started muttering mutinously amongst themselves.

James sighed, crossing his arms. "Do we have to go? Aunt Angela always snaps at me every time I try to do something fun."

"That might be because you usually end up breaking one of her precious vases." His mother raised her eyebrows, placing her hands upon her hips.

"Pffft…" James waved his hand with impatience, "If she loved them as much as she says she does, why does she keep them in a narrow hallway where anyone can walk into it and knock it over? I think she wants them to break, but she wants someone else to blame it on!"

"Kind of likely, considering Aunt Petunia gave them to her," Ginny muttered. Harry glared at her in exasperation. James winked at her when he looked away. She shook her head fondly.

"Well at least she has a reason for disliking James!" Al protested, "I've never done anything wrong and she still spends the hour glaring at me!"

"Aunt Angela likes giving me candy!" Lily had a hole in her set of teeth, at the place she had lost one of her remaining baby teeth. She tilted her head. "Maybe I don't mind going after all!"

James and Al started grumbling again. Their sister exchanged a sly smirk with her mother.

"Look – " Harry began. "They're family."

"Technically, so's Lucius Malfoy." James pointed out.

"Don't forget Aunt Muriel." Albus shuddered.

"I'm pretty sure we're in some way related to Bellatrix Lestrange." Ginny added under her breath.

"Not the point!" Harry snapped.

"Then what is?" Al asked.

"The point is that we're going to your cousins' house, and that's final!"

Everyone groaned.

* * *

Angela was a pleasantly plump woman, with light, curly brown hair. She did not have a cold smile, but it sometimes appeared detached. She was not an unkind woman, but not exactly always the most pleasurable company. She was an average woman with average tastes; she was an accountant with a younger sister that lived half an hour away. She lived her life in no extraordinary way, but when you thought about it, not many people did. She and Dudley lived a comfortable life, and after being blessed with two children, they were never in want of anything more. They weren't at fault for anything, except being a little too dull for their extravagant Weasley relatives' taste.

"Come in." Aunt Angela opened it wider. Her face grew hard when James and Al hopped in, avoiding her disapproving gaze. Ginny and Harry greeted her warmly.

"Oh, the sun is so beautiful today, isn't it!?" Ginny laughed lightly.

"Summer is the best time of year." Angela nodded. An uncertain pause followed. Angela turned abruptly.

"Liza! Jeremy!" Uncle Vernon had grumbled and griped for days after he learned that Jeremy had been named after his maternal grandfather instead of his paternal. Now, ten years later, he still had a slight scowl on his face whenever he saw the boy, or his namesake.

"You'd think they'd name their son after a hardworking laborer rather than a no good wuss who probably fed off his own father for money!" He'd always say. It made no difference to him that Angela's father had come from a poor family and had won scholarships and worked two part-time jobs to pay his way through Business School.

"So he says." Was all Vernon would say.

Thankfully, he was away at a conference this Saturday. There was not a doubt in anybody's mind that he would come home, muttering about how these no good newbies with no respect were ruining the traditional values of Grunnings.

"They think they're so clever!" He'd through his coat on the hanger and plop down on the sofa. "Morons. Every last one of them." Petunia would rush around him, albeit much more reluctantly than she once had.

The children walked down slowly. They stopped on the last step, glancing at each other.

"Don't be rude children!" Angela dragged them closer. Ginny stepped forward and pulled them into big hugs. Harry pulled out the gifts they had brought out, which took some convincing for Aunt Angela to except.

"Liza, show your cousins to the games room." Liza, who was twelve and had her hair in two dark pigtails, nodded.

"Come Lily," She spoke with an air of slight self importance, which was present in most pre teen girls. She wrinkled her nose at Al and James.

"You can come to the games room." She crossed her arms. "But my room is _no boys allowed_."

"Don't worry." Albus snorted. "We don't really want to look at your earrings or nail polish."

"What is wrong with earrings or nail polish?" Lily glared at her brothers.

"Nothing." The said in unison.

"I remember doing that." Ginny recalled dreamily. "No boys allowed. It was a beautiful five minutes. Then Fred and George ran in to hide under my bed. Then Percy came in and started yelling at them. Then Bill came to find out what happened. Then dad wanted to know why everyone was yelling. Then Charlie came looking for dad. Then Ron ran in crying because he was scared everyone had run away and forgotten him. No one even listened when I tried to get them to look at my sign." Ginny shook her head in mock annoyance.

Dudley then came in, ushering everyone into the living room. Liza took all the children upstairs, feeling very responsible in front of her father, who she idealized.

Aunt Petunia was already seated on the couch, her back stiff and her face still. They all attempted to greet each other.

Dudley brought out tea and biscuits, placing them on the pristine coffee table.

Ginny asked Aunt Angela a few mundane questions, who began talking about the new curtains (they looked almost the same as the ones before). Ginny nodded from time to time, but her mind began to drift despite her attempts to concentrate. Dudley and Harry began their own broken and disjointed conversation, which soon fell apart, mainly in their inability to find a topic both Dudley and Harry understood. Their shortest attempt was when Dudley asked Harry about his job. Petunia inhaled when the question was uttered out of politeness. Harry gave a quick reply before to turning the question back to Dudley. Dudley was a high school Phys. Ed teacher. It was something he enjoyed doing very much, and he was very popular among his students. Dudley had never found the strength to formally apologize to Harry for their childhood, but he had learned from it. He put his energy and dedication into understanding his students. He was known for reaching out to who the other teachers considered irredeemable, bullies, and hopeless. He tried to understand their lives – he always knew someone could be suffering from abuse, or from lack of self esteem, or from being a bullied victim themselves. He tried to find places they could vent their anger and frustrations, and he never wavered in his belief that people could change. He always wanted to tell Harry that he thought about him when wondering what he should do, always remembered his green-eyed cousin when deciding whether it was worth fighting to help someone who didn't seem to want to be helped. Dudley never decided not to. Slowly, over the years, Harry had realized it and had begun to respect his cousin. But it never made it any easier for them to talk to each other.

Petunia lifted her cup to her lip with her pinky stuck out. She sipped in a way she probably thought made her appear elegant. Finally, Ginny couldn't resist.

"How's Vernon?"

"Excellent, thank you." Petunia gave a tight smile, "He just received a bonus, for working for the company for so long. For being one of their most dedicated workers, they told him. Soon he'll be able to retire with an excellent pension."

"I'm glad to hear it." Harry looked into his aunt's eyes with genuine pleasure for her contentment.

"Well," Petunia shifted, unsure of where to look, "It was expected."

They all fell back into silence.

Aunt Angela began talking about the grass. Everyone was very relieved.

* * *

"What do you want to do?" Albus asked politely, holding his hands together in front. Liza shrugged. She plopped down unto the couch and whipped out something from her pocket they recognized as what their Aunt Hermione called a cellphone.

"Do you want to destroy stuff on my video game?" Jeremy blushed, shy but eager. "I just got a new one."

"Sure." Lily smiled, which made the boy blush deeper, "I'd love to try it!"

"Oh – okay" He scratched his neck. "You have nice hair." He coughed, looking away.

"Thank you!" Lily leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "You are very sweet."

Al and James crossed their arms, glaring at the ten-year-old boy, suddenly sure he would grow up to be an incorrigible player.

"You are all such children." Liza sighed with exaggeration, lamenting at her inability to find anyone who matched her intellectual superiority. "I wish Beth and Anne were here."

"I'm older than you." James pointed out.

"Yes, but you're a _boy_!"

"Right…"

Liza sighed again. Lily and Jeremy went to play a very gory game (which brought Lily more pleasure than he had expected), under the watchful eyes of the Potter boys.

"I better get a new broom after this." James whispered in his brother's ear.

* * *

"So…" Dudley began. "How's Teddy?"

"He's doing wonderfully. He's engaged."

"Congratulations!"

"He's very happy."

Petunia sniffed. "You don't think he's rushing into it? He's only twenty. How old is the girl?"

"Eighteen."

Petunia inhaled sharply, scandalized. Dudley blushed for his mother, casting an apologetic glance at Harry.

"She's training to be a heal- doctor." Ginny couldn't help but adding, more offended than Harry.

Petunia sniffed again.

* * *

The Dursley children looked back at the Potters.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Liza was mistrustful.

"Why?" James taunted, "Are you scared? Of just a tiny bit of magic? I thought only little kids got scared."

Liza huffed.

"Are… are you sure we won't get in trouble." Jeremy whispered. Lily laughed.

"Of course not! It will be fun! It's completely safe."

"Maybe…" Albus began.

"Don't be a scaredy-cat Al!" Lily giggled devilishly. Jeremy was more intimidated, and felt his short-lived crush begin to subside. "Let's go!"

"Wait." James blinked. He grabbed his sister's arm and leaned into her ear. "I was just joking! Lily, this might not be the best idea. They've never seen magic."

"Not you too James! I thought you were cool!"

Lily knew her brother would never back out now.

* * *

"How're Ron and Hermione?"

"Good. They've taken Rose and Hugo to Hermione's parents' house for two weeks."

"Oh, that's nice. How far away do they live?"

"About two hours out of London."

"I hope the girl's hair has settled with age." Petunia cleared her throat. "I recall it being quite wild last time I saw her."

Ginny glared. Aunt Angela started babbling about teacups.

* * *

Liza snorted. "That's it? How pathetic. I thought magic was supposed to be cool." She flipped her hair back. "I can't believe I wasted my time with you losers. I could have been texting my friends!"

James bristled. "It is an under scaled version!"

"Please." She flipped her hair back again. "Prove it."

James whipped out his wand. "Easily."

* * *

In the living room, the adults were knocked of their seats by the explosion.

* * *

They waited outside in the garden while Harry fixed the upper floor of the house.

"HOW DARE YOU! WIZARD FIREWORKS? FIREWORKS!"

"It was supposed to be a small fizz… like a mini fire work… Uncle George said it wouldn't damage anything…"

"THEN HOW DID IT END UP BLOWING THE ENTIRE UPPER FLOOR OF THEIR HOUSE!" Ginny shrieked. Aunt Angela nodded vigorously. Her face was pale and she was shivering. Dudley put an arm around his wife.

"It's fine Ginny, they're children." Dudley attempting to put a placating hand on her arm. "No harm done." Ginny ignored him.

"Well… it was really tiny, so… I thought it would be cool if it was a... a little… bigger…" James quailed beneath his mother's fury.

"BIGGER? BIGGER? I RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THIS! HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE!"

"We didn't mean for it to – "

"NOT A WORD ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER!"

"Ow, that's my ear mum!"

"YOU'LL BE LUCKY IF YOUR EAR'S THE WORST YOU LOSE JAMES SIRIUS POTTER!"

She whirled around to face her youngest daughter.

"AND YOU?" Lily shrugged helplessly.

"I tried to stop them." She whispered tearfully. "I didn't want to hurt Auntie Angela! She's so nice to me…" She turned to her aunt. "Please don't hate me Auntie…" Lily sniffed, looked down. Albus and James's jaws dropped.

"But – " Al sputtered.

"Poor girl…" Angela shook her head, "Don't blame her Ginny, she didn't do anything wrong." Ginny paid her no heed. She leaned close and raised her daughter's chin.

" _Don't even try it Lily Luna._ " She hissed.

"She's right mum." James stepped forward. "Al didn't do anything either. It was all me."

Ginny sighed. "This is not the the time to become a hero James."

"I'm telling the truth." Ginny looked mistrustful.

"He is!" Liza nodded anxiously. She had burst into tears the minute the adults had ran into the room. She looked hopeful now.

Harry walked out, glancing at his children with disappointment. They were filled with guilt. He joined Ginny in his profuse apologizes. Dudley was quick to assure them that they didn't mind, and that the house had been fixed in ten minutes anyway. Angela seemed less inclined, and only did it because she was obligated. Petunia didn't even try. She retired to the guest room without a word and refused to leave it.

"In the car." Harry snapped afterwards. "Now." They had driven the Durselys's house in it, not feeling it would be polite to apparate directly into their house, and feeling it wouldn't be safe to apparate right outside the door.

"Dad…" James attempted. He slumped down in his seat as his mother scowled into the rear view mirror.

They sat in silence.

"Does this mean we aren't getting ice cream?" Lily asked.

* * *

"So he's at home." Scorpius asked. They were sitting on a bench outside of Florean Fortescue's a week later.

"Yup." Albus licked his chocolate ice cream, "He's been in there for the past week. Mum also cleaned out his room. Dragged out a whole bag of things she deemed him incapable to handle responsibly."

"Wow."

"Well, we did technically set fire to their upper floor."

"Yeah, but James is the only one doing the time."

"Yeah…" Al nodded sympathetically, "But then again, he's framed me so many times that my conscience is clear. I even mentioned to mum the canary creams in his trunk he was planning on using at the next Weasley reunion."

Scorpius stared. "You Potters are pretty merciless."

"Eh." Al shrugged. "He did tell me I owed him, and I don't think I'm going to end up repaying the favor in a way I'll be happy with. I'm just going to forget about it for now."

Scorpius shrugged. "When does Rose get back?"

"Three days from now. Why?" Albus pretended to be offended. "Am I not enough for you Scorpius!?"

Scorpius rolled his eyes. "Sometimes, you're a little too much."

Albus placed the last bite of the cone in his mouth and threw his napkin in the garbage.

"You know, I'd like another. To make up for James not getting one."

Lily ran past the bench, Harry panting behind her, trying to keep up. He waved, before they disappeared into a shop Ginny was in.

A streak ginger darted between peoples' feet.

"Hey!" Scorpius grabbed Al's arm.

"What?"

Scorpius caught sight of the skeletal creature bolting away, along the side of the shops. It stumbled momentarily, before regaining its speed.

Scorpius gasped. "Its leg's hurt!"

"Huh?"

"Come on!" He dragged Al up.

"Scorpius, what are you – "

Scorpius was already sprinting away, weaving impatiently through the crowd. Al hurried after him, cursing as he tripped over his feet.

"OI! CAREFUL!"

"Sorry!" Al called back, certain the man was already too far away to hear.

The creature skidded down into Knockturn Alley. Scorpius, focused on nothing but reaching it, ran into the darkness.

"Scorpius!" Al snapped, shaking his head as he forced himself into the place he swore to his parents he would never go near.

Scorpius leapt forward and gathered the bundle in his arms. It was like a collection of bones, with course, matted fur carelessly glued on to them as an afterthought. It screeched angrily in pain. Its leg was now bent. It had scratching plummeting down its back.

"Scorpius!" Al grabbed his arm and yanked him around, furious. "What in Merlin's beard are you doing! Running into Knockturn Alley for a bloody cat!"

"Oh, the poor thing! Look at it…" Scorpius struggled to keep hold of the cat, who was twisting and snarling is his arms.

"Scorpius…" Al shuddered nervously. Shadows of cackling witches and snarling wizards drifted over the cold stone walls. The light of Diagon Alley was now far away, and Al could only see Scorpius's faint outline. Harsh yellow lanterns hung over the ominous entrance ways of the shops. The cat was still writhing in it's

"Is that a Potter… by God, and a Malfoy…" Albus couldn't tell if he had imagined the sinister whisper, but he felt his heart pick up in terror, as if it was trying to run away. He knew for a Potter or a Malfoy being caught by Dark Lord sympathizers in Knockturn Alley would not end well for either of them.

"Please Scorpius… it's just a cat, it will be fine…" Scorpius glared.

"I am not leaving it." He hissed. Al would have felt offended, if he wasn't so terrified. Suddenly, the cat wrenched free.

"Hey!" Scorpius yelled.

"Shhh…" Al whimpered. Scorpius followed the cat into a store that was pitch black. Al did not know how this could get

Inside, the shop was filled with strange items. Glowing necklaces, vibrant shawls lined with gold. Old books and different colored orbs and strange, shining contraptions that twisted and folded over themselves.

"Don't touch anything." Al whispered.

"Why?" A woman stepped out from the darkness in the corner of the store. She held the snarling, bloodstained cat in her arms. She held a pocket knife in the other. The edge of the gleaming blade was wet with red.

"Surely you aren't scared? Are you, Albus Potter?" Her voice dropped into a soft murmur. "Scorpius Malfoy?" She pulled her lips back and grinned. Her teeth glowed pure white.

* * *

 **Hey! Thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **To address some things that were mentioned, Al, Rose, and Scorpius are the main characters of this story, but other people will appear, including James and Sara, Lily, the parents, teachers, the rest of the Weasley clan. Sorry if you don't like some of them, but Al, Rose and Scorpius wouldn't have a story if they were the only ones in it. Hopefully you will like the other ones!**

 **Another thing - Sara is not a self insert. Absolutely not. I am not going to start explaining my personality, but believe me when I say it is very different. The only thing similar is that we are Indian (but considering there are more than a billion people in India, I can assure you they are not all the same)**

However, it would be great if you could answer this question - how do the rest of you feel about Sara and/or James? I am really dying to know how you are responding to them. There is still a lot of character development of them, and a lot more about Sara's life to unveil.

 **It will be very hard for me to post another chapter this month because of Nanowrimo. I reach 50 000 last year, and I hope to again this year. I'll try to post one more time this month.**

 **I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel. ~ Maya Angelou**

 **Please review! I need all the motivation I can get this month!**


	12. Chapter 11

Her lips curled into a sneer, bitterness seeping from her skin.

"What would you have to be scared about?" She spit, her eyes burning with anger. "What have you ever had to be scared about?" The words of her last sentence were full of breath, swelling like a balloon, rising.

Al grabbed Scorpius's arm, gasping softly as he stared at the bloodstained fur of the ginger cat. Scorpius shrugged his hands away.

"What did you do with that cat?" Scorpius crossed his arms. His voice was surprisingly clear and undaunted. The woman snorted with amusement.

"Isn't that funny?" Her voice was rough, as if a knife had been used to hack it apart into torn pieces held together by bits of fraying thread. "A Malfoy trying to play hero. For a bloody cat. Literally." She giggled maniacally, her laughs punctuated by sudden gasps. Her brown hair hung limp and looked dehydrated. Her course skin sags from her face. Her lips are peeling. She looked like she's past fifty, but Scorpius suspected she was much younger than that.

She began trailing the wet blade over the surface of the cat, who started writhing again in her arms. She tightened her grasp, clenching her fist around the cat's neck and squeezing. The sound that escaped the cat resembled a silent shriek.

"No!" Scorpius started to step forward, but Al grabbed his arm again and yanked him back.

" _Better the cat than you_." Al snapped under his breath between clenched teeth. But he also looked horrified and sickened.

"There, there darling…" Her eyes began to shine. "Mama would never hurt you! What kind of mama would hurt her own child?" She puckered her lips and made kissing sounds.

"She's insane," Al whimpered, grabbing Scorpius's arm again. "She's absolutely insane."

"Why are you doing this?" Scorpius shakes his head. A gust of wind flows from the open window. A series of creaks from the hinges of the various metal objects scattered around the shop fill the room. The woman tilted her head.

"He likes it you know." She rasped. "He likes it."

 _'_ _Insane.'_ Al mouths. Suddenly, she plunged the knife down the cat's side, leaving a large gash. Blood began to pour from it. Scorpius and Al shrieked. The cat began to struggle less, its attempts at breaking free becoming more listless and lethargic.

"See…" She purrs, caressing its chin with one of her mottled, knobby fingers. "He likes it."

"No! He doesn't like it! What kind of sick monster are you!" Scorpius screams. The woman shudders, as if she has encountered something mildly distasteful. The sound feels foreign in the dark shop. Scorpius guesses it hasn't heard anything higher than whisper in all of its existence.

"Shhh…" She grinned. "Shhh… He likes it…" She repeated.

"He's become used to it." Scorpius licks his lips, feeling queasy.

"Same thing!" She cackles. "That's how we love! We learn to accept the pain. We learn to accept it, until we begin to need it. We _need_ it… the pain becomes addictive…" Insanity burned in her eyes. "So addictive that we begin dealing with the devil. That we only take what is so painful, because it feels so good. Until it becomes too much, and we are consumed…"

Al looked nauseous. He put his hands to his mouth, his eyes wide.

"Of course, you wouldn't know that." Her smile soured, as if the thoughts that were so pleasurable to think a few seconds ago had acquired a bitter aftertaste. "When have either of you felt pain? When will either of you have to?" Suddenly, she tossed the cat aside. She lunged forward unto Al, her hands outstretched. They both crashed the ground, Al flailing around as the woman attempted to get a strong hold around his neck with one hand, the pocket knife raised in the other.

"I've been waiting so long to do this…" She growled, her face twisted, red from the fury coursing through her blood.

"NO!" Scorpius gave another strangled scream and launched himself unto the woman's back, pulling with all his might. He overestimated her strength. Her feeble body, much thinner under the shawls than Scorpius had expected, fell off with ease, her hands slipping away from Al as if they were coated with butter. The skidded away. Scorpius fell back with the force of his own momentum.

Al shot up from his back, his fists raised. But the woman remained on the ground. As if all the anger has been soaked up by the earth and she no longer has the strength to stand up again. She just stared up. Al and Scorpius exchange a confused glance. The cat gave a feeble _meow_ from the corner of the shop. Scorpius rushed forward and gathered it in his arms, gasping at the depth of the wound.

"It needs help." Al didn't respond. He just continued to stare at the woman. He opened his mouth to do so, just as the door of the shop flew open, revealing Al's father.

"What the?" Harry's glasses were knocked aside. He blinked rapidly, panting. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN KNOCKTURN ALLEY?" He hollered at them. Al quickly opened his mouth, then slowly closed it again. Scorpius held the cat close to his chest. His hands, and his wrists, were bright red. Harry's eyes passed from both of them to the woman on the ground, recognition suddenly lighting in his eyes.

"What are you going to do to me?" The woman croaked, chuckling slightly. "Harry Potter?"

Harry waited. "Nothing. Come on." He gestured to Al and Scorpius.

"It needs help!" Scorpius cried urgently to Harry, who nodded. And so after Harry cast a Patronus to the rest of the family they left the shop, walking up the streets of Knockturn Alley, their arms in Harry's tight grasp, back to the light of Diagon Alley.

* * *

The bell jingled as they entered Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Teddy rushed forward, taking Al in his arms and holding him close. Scorpius ran to the counter where Victoire was standing. Her eyes flew open when she saw the mangled mass of ginger.

"Scorpius?"

"Please!" Scorpius brought the cat forward to her hands. "Please help him!"

"Of course." She nodded vigorously, taking him and sprinting to the back of the shop.

"Go get Al and Scorpius blankets." Harry told Dominique, who nodded vigorously and hurried to the back.

"Where were they?" Teddy asked, still holding Al. Harry crossed his arms, his face as hard as stone.

"Flora Carrow's shop." Teddy sucked a deep breath of air into his chest.

"Carrow?" Al snapped away from Teddy. "You mean… Carrow…?"

"Amycus Carrow's daughter." Harry's lips were pursed.

"No wonder she was off her rocker." Al shivered. "Did you see what she did to the cat?" His face was pale.

"Please don't tell me you went in there for the cat, did you?" Harry sighed, rubbing his face with his hand.

"It was my fault." Scorpius and Al said simultaneously, before turning to exchange a surprised glance.

"It was _my_ fault." Scorpius repeated. "Al told me not to." Dominique returned with the blankets, handing one to Scorpius and wrapping the other around her younger cousin. Harry sighed again.

"What… what happened to her?" Scorpius asked timidly, not able to meet any of their eyes, just beginning to realize the sheer stupidity of his actions. "After the war?"

"Her father and aunt were thrown in Azkaban. It turns out her father had been abusing her… abusing her in more ways than one." Harry remarked sadly.

"You mean…" Scorpius began, trailing off.

"Physically, emotionally… sexually too." Al's eyes went wide. "Her mother died giving birth to her. She didn't have much after the war. We tried to give her welfare, but she refused. I went there myself and tried to convince her, but she spit at me. She was even willing to fight me. Her father had treated her terribly, but somehow, in some way, she still loved him. She felt that accepting anything from us would be disloyalty. She was only a few years older than me. She got married, to some downtrodden pure blood fanatic. He didn't treat her much better than her father had. I think he died a while back, from choking on his own vomit when he was drunk." Harry looked away, staring out at the street where two girls and two boys were chasing each other in a game of tag. "Ginny wouldn't want me telling you this."

"That's terrible." Scorpius murmured.

"Seriously Scorpius?" Al tightened the blanket around his shoulders. "She tries to kill us and tortures the cat and you still feel bad for her?" Harry squeezed his eyes shut at the reminder.

"Still… isn't that part of the reason she did it all?"

"You're too nice Scorpius." Al rolled his eyes. But Harry gave Scorpius an understanding, if tight look.

"You're safe." Harry nodded, as if reminding himself. "You're safe. I've notified your parents Scorpius. They're coming. Teddy, you should take Al back home." Teddy nodded. Al quickly hugged Scorpius.

"I don't blame you." He whispered in Scorpius's ear. "You're just braver than I am."

"No." Scorpius muttered. "Just dumber." Al flashed him a knowing look before leaving with Teddy. Scorpius was then alone with Harry.

"I'm sorry Mr. Potter." Scorpius whispered, looking away. "I put your son in danger. I was just thinking about the cat." Harry bent down and cupped Scorpius's chin in his hand.

"You did something selfless," Harry whispered, "But I was very worried about both of you. Anything could have happened. There are much stronger men and women out there, who have been waiting a long time to get their revenge." Scorpius nodded. Then Harry did something unexpected. He hugged him.

"Next time," Harry whispered, "Come get me. I'm an Auror. I catch Dark wizards. Catching a cat would be a walk in the park."

When Harry pulled away, Victoire was standing at their side smiling. In her arms was a purring ginger cat who looked like nothing had ever happened him. As if he had just woken up from a long nap.

"Good as new."

"All thanks to you!" Victoire shook her head.

"I just fixed him up. You're the one who saved him." Victoire winked, and Scorpius blushed in response. He took the cat.

"What will you name him?" Victoire asked. Scorpius blinked.

"He's not mine!"

"We'll put an ad out. If nobody comes to claim him, he's yours. But judging from the state he was in even without the bleeding, he's a stray. Our had a really bad owner he was lucky to escape anyway. Scorpius looked down into the wide green eyes of the cat.

"You know," Harry mused, "He reminds me of Crookshanks. A bit. But Crookshanks was ten times bigger and a lot more angry." Crookshanks had died when Rose was seven. She had been devastated.

"If he's nobody else's, I'll call him Adler."

* * *

"What were you thinking!" Astoria cried as she rushed forward. She fell to her knees in front of her son, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him into a tight embrace. His face was pressed into her neck as she dropped kisses into his hair. Scorpius could feel her trembling slightly.

Then she pulled away roughly. Her face was damp and her mascara was running down her cheeks. "What were you thinking!" She screeched again, shaking him desperately.

"She was hurting it!"

"Scorpius, it's a cat!"

"What would you have done if it was me?"

"That makes absolutely no sense! You can't seriously compare yourself to a cat! You're worth a million times what that cat is worth!"

"Well that depends on who you're asking, doesn't it?" Astoria gaped at her son. "I mean, I bet a bunch of people would say a slug's life is worth more than mine. It really is perspective. Who are we to decide what life is more important than another?"

"You're twelve years old Scorpius! What kind of twelve-year-old thinks things like that?" Astoria sputtered.

"What were you thinking about at twelve years old?"

"Not that!"

"Mum…"

"Sh." Astoria was hugging him again.

"I'm keeping the cat." Astoria didn't respond.

"I'm keeping him."

"We'll talk."

"I am. After everything that it took to get him…" Astoria shook her head, as if she was already trying to forget.

"Alright." She relented.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not. Not because you could have been killed." She sighed. "And that's what worries me."

* * *

Rose had a lot of memories, many of which she didn't begin to understand until much later. She had memories of her father waking up gasping, muttering incoherent sentences, all punctuated by helpless screams that died in his throat. Sometimes he'd start calling someone's name – Hermione, Harry, Fred… he'd start apologizing between his heartbroken sobs. Saying sorry over and over again. Rose realized later he was searching for his own forgiveness when he asked for theirs, and he knew he would never be able to have it. Rose remembered her mother gathering him in her tiny arms, his face pressed into her neck. Rocking him gently back and forth, both of them trying to find solitude in each other's arms.

Or of Hermione herself, when her father was away, tossing and turning restlessly, burying herself in blankets, only to throw them off again. Breathing deeply into her pillow, pressing her hands to her hears so she could escape the noise neither Rose or Hugo could hear. All of the grown ups seemed able to hear this noise. George on his birthday, Grandma Molly at Christmas. But none of the children could. They talked a lot about it when they were younger. They talked about wishing they had been a part of the war, so they could fight and so they could be brave. So they could _understand_. They said it when no grown ups were around, so no one was there to reprimand them for it. But as they grew older, it felt more insulting to say it, especially when they were granted more access to the more painful stories of the war.

She remembered seeing the scar on her mother's arm - seeing the word but not comprehending its meaning. Mudblood. It was just a word. Like chalk or cherries or carpet. Something that had no significance in her life or mind. She couldn't see the weight of it, nor the stories or the pain it held inside of it. She once told her mother that she didn't understand what it meant. Her mother replied with, "I hope it stays that way." Gradually, she she began to know more about the definition and the pain it could cause, but she suspected she wore armor that the people before her didn't – armor which protected her from it. She began to think more and more about what her parents had to go through to give her this amour.

One night, a week before she went back to Hogwarts for her second year, she woke up around midnight. She crept downstairs for a glass of water, but froze in her tracks when she heard hushed voices. A light was on.

"You don't have to go back Ron." Hermione whispered.

"Yes I do."

"Ron…"

"Stop it Hermione." Her mother didn't say anything more. She pulled her chair closer and buried herself in her husband's arms.

Rose had always wondered why her dad had stopped being an Auror. Back when she was eight, at the time where it was almost certain he would be promoted to Deputy. Everyone around her on the streets and in the shops talked about it. Speculated.

"Well isn't it obvious?" One short man in Flourish and Botts boasted. "He's jealous of Harry Potter! He knows he'll never be Head Auror with Harry around, and he doesn't want to be second best!"

"He doesn't think he can do it!" Another woman whispered to her friend in Gringotts.

The worst and most ludicrous was one she heard in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes itself.

"Well his wife's having an affair with his best friend, and he doesn't want to see him again at work because of it!"

But none of them knew the truth. That Ron wasn't jealous of Harry (but very proud), or doubtful of his capabilities (at least not enough to leave), and his wife was definitely not having an affair (especially not with Harry, who she considered a brother).

He was haunted by his past, and he was tired of his present being a daily reminder of it. But he was needed, and so he would go back, no matter how much it hurt. Rose crept back upstairs, her heart aching for her father, but at the same time feeling so proud of his loyalty and strength.

* * *

"Adler." Al wrinkled his nose. "Adler Malfoy. You should have waited until I was there until you named him." They were sitting in the train compartment in their muggle clothes, on the way back to Hogwarts.

"Better than Albus."

"That's not worth much. Everything's better than Albus."

"Not Scorpius."

"Yes it is."

"No it isn't."

"Yes it is."

"No it isn't."

"Yes – "

"Shut up boys." Rose snapped. She was sitting beside Scorpius, Adler resting in her lap. She petted his head, giggling when he purred.

"He reminds me of Crookshanks…" Rose smiled sadly. Scorpius squeezed her shoulder. They exchanged a smile.

"Adler is just as much of your guys' cat as he is mine."

"Considering I nearly got stabbed by a crazy woman to get him, that makes sense." Al joked.

"Still can't believe you did that." Rose glared at Scorpius.

"Well he's here, isn't he?"

"That he is." Rose leaned down and kissed Adler on the head, between his two ginger ears.

"You know," Al remarked, "I'm really happy about that."

Adler purred in agreement.

* * *

 **I'm very very sorry I wasn't able to update for more than month. First I was busy with Nanowrimo (which I finished) and I had a lot of tests and homework in the last few weeks before Christmas break. I will try to update two more times before the break ends. Thank you for all the reviews and support while I had sorta disappeared.**

 **Question : What characters do you want to see more of or know more about? Which members of the Weasley family?You will be seeing more of Dominique next chapter because that's when Quidditch is going to start! I'm excited for it.**

 **Please review, favorite or follow if you like the story! Merry Christmas (if you celebrate it) and Happy New Year!**


	13. Chapter 12

_Eyes squeezed shut. Hands shaking. Drowning beneath waves of fear._

 _Then, a warm hand on his shoulder._

 _"_ _James…"_

 _"_ _I can't." James voice shook. His eyes filled with water. "I can't." He shook his head furiously, dropping the broom and backing away. He buried his face in his hands. "I'm n-not b-brave en – n - nough."_

 _Harry kneeled down in front of his eldest son, who was only seven years old. He cupped James's cheeks in his hands, lifting his face up gently._

 _"_ _P-please d-don't tell mum." James stuttered through his tears. He tried wiping the water from his face._

 _"_ _Try again."_

 _"_ _I c-can't."_

 _"_ _I'll hold you."_

 _"_ _Dad…"_

 _"_ _Try. I won't let go of you." James held his breath for a couple seconds._

 _"_ _Promise?" He finally asked._

 _"_ _Promise."_

 _"…_ _Okay."_

 _He squeezed his eyes shut and awkwardly mounted the broom with his father's help, stumbling slightly because he couldn't see._

 _His father's hands never left his back. He took a deep breath and willed himself to fly._

 _Nothing happened._

 _"_ _It isn't work – " James gasped when he opened his eyes. He was gently hovering over the grass. Soon, his feet once again touched the ground._

 _"_ _Dad!" James dropped the broom and grabbed his dad's hand, shaking it up and down. "I was flying! Did you see that? I was flying!"_

 _Harry laughed and gathered his son in his arms. He pressed his cheek to his son's and held him close._

 _"_ _I knew you would."_

 _"_ _So did I!"_

 _Harry pulled away, amused. James looked down, blushing but smiling softly._

 _"_ _I need to keep an eye on you. One day you might just fly away." James's eyes widened. He threw himself back into his dad's arms._

 _"_ _I won't ever leave you dad. I need you!"_

 _"_ _That's for sure."_

 _X_

 _"_ _No higher than that bush."_

 _"_ _But dad…"_

 _"_ _You heard me." Rose pouted, but excitement shined in her eyes. She pressed her hands together, bouncing on the balls of her feet._

 _"_ _Rose…" Ron shifted, avoiding his beloved daughter's pleading eyes._

 _"_ _Pleeaassee…" Rose grinned, knowing she had her dad wrapped around her little finger. Ron sighed, rubbing his face, smiling slightly against his will._

 _"_ _No higher than the tree." Rose squealed, throwing her seven-year-old arms around her father's waist. Before he could hug her, she let go and sprinted to her room. She mounted it and launched herself upward, screaming with delight._

 _"_ _Rose!" Ron grabbed his own broom. "I said no higher than the tree!"_

 _X_

 _"_ _Come one Al!" James laughed, sticking out his tongue before shooting forward, flying up the hill._

 _"_ _Ignore him." Ginny grinned, tying her hair back in a ponytail. Al's knees shook._

 _"_ _Mum…" He gulped, backing away. Ginny leaned forward and grabbed his tiny hand with hers._

 _"_ _Do you trust me?" She asked. His emerald eyes widened, but after a few seconds he slowly nodded._

 _"_ _Good. Because I promise I won't let you go." Ginny picked up the small broom beside them._

 _"_ _No." Al shook his head fiercely. He wrapped his arms around his mother's neck. "I won't let you go."_

 _X_

 _"_ _Dad…" Scorpius stood awkwardly beside the open door of his father's office._

 _"_ _One moment Scorpius." His father was hunched over his desk, examining some papers. Scorpius waited for a couple minutes, trying to find something interesting in the almost empty, white room. He did not succeed. Finally, his father but his pen down and got up. His weary eyes crinkled as he smiled at his son. He kneeled down in front of Scorpius, not letting his knees touch the ground._

 _"_ _What is it?"_

 _"_ _Well… I was wondering…" Scorpius's words quickened with excitement. "If you would teach me how to fly?" Draco's heart sank in his chest. He remembered his own father yelling at him about how he wasn't good enough, not even at flying. He remembered the games when he felt like he was going to throw up, and didn't want to fly at all, but pretended to be arrogant and self-satisfied anyway._

 _"_ _Scorpius… maybe that's not the best idea. I have some… bad memories with flying. Besides, I'm not… very good." Draco wasn't just talking about the flying, but his heart broke when Scorpius's face fell._

 _"_ _But…" Hope lit up in Scorpius's eyes. "I'll… I…I'll take you to your aunt Daphne's. She'll teach you how to fly. She… she liked to. And she's much better at it than me."_

 _"_ _Oh." Scorpius swallowed, looking away. "Okay. Sure. Thank you… father."_

 _Draco started crying the moment Scorpius left._

* * *

Rose shoved a spoon of mash potatoes into her mouth, chewing loudly and grabbing a handful of chips with the other hand. Al was gulping down sausages one after the other. Scorpius watched, faintly nauseated.

"Potter – Weasley manners." He shuddered, tearing his eyes away from the ghastly sight with some difficulty. Al laughed, drops of spit flying from his mouth unto Scorpius. Scorpius wrinkled his nose, wiping his face with a napkin.

"Oh come on Scorp," Al slurped down some pumpkin juice. "You're starting to sound like a Malfoy."

"I am a Malfoy. And Scorp?"

"Well Scorpius is a bit of a mouthful, isn't it?"

"I… I guess…"

"I've been thinking." Rose began after wiping her face with the back of her sleeve. She put down her fork, straightening her back as she did so.

"Is that supposed to surprise us?" Scorpius asked. Rose shoved him playfully. But then her face became more serious.

"I was thinking that we should all try out for the Quidditch team. Together." She added the last word hastily, looking away. "It would be a good opportunity to try something new. Go out on a limb." She tucked a curl behind her ear. "We might even surprise ourselves." Scorpius was momentarily surprised by the nervousness in her eyes.

Al's face brightened. "That's a great idea! That way when we all fail, we'll be sad and embarrassed together!" Rose crinkled her eyebrows.

"Well… the aim is to make the team…" She reminded him. Scorpius picked at a couple of crumbs in his plate, rolling them between his pale fingertips.

"If you want to try out Rose, just do it. Why do you need us?"

"I want to try out too!" Al crossed his arms.

"Great. Both of you can try out then. I'll be cheering you on." Al's jaw dropped.

"Why don't you wanna try out?" Scorpius shrugged casually.

"I don't really like Quidditch." He picked up a tart and examined it. Al gasped, backing away.

"I mean," Scorpius amended, "I like watching it. Talking about it. But I don't have much of a desire to play it myself." Rose leaned forward and looked into his eyes. Scorpius avoided her gaze, reaching forward to grab another sausage. Rose slapped his hand.

"Hey!" Rose ignored him.

"You're lying." She told him. "You want to try out."

"No I don't!"

"Yes you do."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"No." Rose smiled.

"Yes – wait, what?"

"You want to try out." Rose began again, smirking. "You're just scared of messing up."

"I'm not scared!"

"Yes you are. You're scared of everyone laughing at you."

"I told you, I'm not scared!"

"Then prove it." Scorpius leaned back, annoyed.

"Look, we probably won't even make the team." Al added. "We're only second years, going against those huge fifth and sixth years. It'll just be fun. When we come back, we'll laugh at how bad we did and how funny it was. And we'll celebrate when we learn James made the team."

"Exactly." Rose nodded her head, looking very pleased with herself. "So it's final. We'll all try out on Saturday morning."

"Why do I even bother anymore?" Scorpius grumbled.

"That's what I was wondering!" Rose laughed.

* * *

"You should eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"Just a sausage."

"I'm not hungry."

"You need your strength."

"I'm. Not. Hungry."

"I know you're nervous, but – "

"I'm not nervous!" James snapped. Sara raised her eyebrows. "I'm not! Quit pestering me!"

"Alright, fine. Good luck." Sara picked up her bag and pulled herself up from the table. James eyes flew open.

"Wait, what? No, don't leave!" Sara stared. James scratched his neck. "Who else am I supposed to insult without offending them?"

"Who says I'm not offended?"

"I need someone to argue with… to you know… keep me on my game. Keep my reflexes strong."

"That makes no sense."

"Yes it does."

"No it doesn't."

"Yes it does."

"No it doesn't."

"See? Besides, what do you have to do anyway? Do you have plans to hang out with all those nonexistent friends you have?" Sara blinked.

"Wow James… I really want to help you now…" She snorted sardonically, crossing her arms.

"You know it's true. The saddest thing is, I'm probably the closest thing you have to a friend."

"Goodbye James."

"Wait wait wait!" James grabbed her arm hastily. "Sorry." Sara raised her eyebrows in shock (he never apologized). "It's the anxiety talking."

"I thought you weren't anxious?" James opened his mouth, then closed it. Sara threw her head back and laughed.

"Just this once." She said as she sat back down. She plucked a sausage from the food she had dumped on his previously empty plate, smiling as she chewed it. "Because you're nervous."

"I'm not nervous!" But he groaned, leaning forward and resting his forehead on his hands on the table.

"You've practised almost every day for the past year." She reminded him. "You've worked for it."

"Wow, a compliment." James's voice was muffled.

"Savor it. You're not getting another one."

Scorpius stomped up to where they were and threw himself down on the other side of the table, across from them. He was also dressed in red Quidditch robes. He also groaned, leaning forward and resting his forehead on his hands on the table.

"You're trying out too Scorpius?" Sara sounded excited. Scorpius grunted.

"That's great! What position are you going for?" Scorpius grunted again.

Sara looked back and forth between her black haired nemesis and her blond haired friend.

"And they said Potters and Malfoys have nothing in common." She seemed amused.

Al and Rose walked up in their Quidditch gear, setting themselves down beside Scorpius.

"Morning!" Al chirped, ruffling Scorpius's hair, "Ready to fail?"

"Yes." James muttered. Al rolled his eyes.

"Not you stupid. Us."

"You're all trying out!" Sara grinned, clapping her hands. Rose smiled tightly. Her back was straight and she was trying to look calm, but her silence was enough to expose her anxiety.

Sara grabbed some plates, loading them to the brim with food, shoving them in front of the trio. She began reciting optimistic words of encouragement and reminders for positivity.

"And remember, one shot doesn't decided everything. So if you make a mistake once, don't let it affect your confidence. You abilities aren't determined by – "

"Sara?" James finally lifted his head, blinking wearily.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up." Sara glared.

"Agreed." Scorpius also lifted his head, rubbing his face. Sara pursed her lips, struggling to remember they were scared.

"Alright. Sorry. Sort of." She scratched her neck. "Just remember…" She turned to Rose. "You three are only second years. There are a bunch of kids who are much older, with a lot more experience. So don't feel discouraged – "

"When we don't make it." Rose sighed.

"Not _when_." Sara said pointedly. " _If_. You're twelve. You're good now, and by the time you're 15 or 16, you'll be outstanding."

"Yay." Scorpius remarked sullenly.

Fred suddenly sprinted in, falling into James and wrapping his arms around his cousin in a bear hug.

"Sorry I'm late!" He was breathless. "Just finishing my present for you when you make the team." James looked queasy at those words.

Al looked at his watch. "We should get going." He voice was without a trace of nervousness.

Rose dragged Scorpius up, running after Al. James got up reluctantly, grabbing his bag and moving slowly with Fred behind him.

"Good luck!" Sara called after them.

James turned and flashed a weak smile. "Luck?" He snorted half – heartedly, "I don't need luck." But his legs shook as he began to make his way out of the great hall.

* * *

"Quidditch," Dominique began, "Is more than just a game." Her flaming hair, cut carelessly and close to her head, was drenched with sweat. Her muscular figure rippled beneath her athletic shorts and shirt (she didn't wear Quidditch robes when practising). Some of the boys in the back were ogling at her long legs. Dominique paid them no heed.

"If you're here because you think it'll get you some attention or a date to Hogsmeade or because you think you can be a half decent player without trying too hard, I suggest you leave before you make an absolute fool out of yourself."

Faint whispers rippled over the crowd. She spun around sharply to face them. Her blue eyes crackled with electricity.

"Does this surprise you?" No one answered. Most of them avoided her gaze. James didn't. Neither did Janice or Jessica Jones, two twins in the year above him. Dominique waited for a couple seconds, before continuing.

"We have four positions open – two beaters, one chaser, one keeper, and one seeker. And the only people who will be filling those positions, are the ones who are willing to work day and night, without break if I ask them to. The ones who are willing to get up at 2 in the morning and play until 12 at night. The ones who care about it more than they care about food or school or sleep. The ones who won't just listen to what I tell them to do, but will bring their own ideas and insights to the games. The ones who live and breathe the Quidditch pitch."

"She needs to chill." A fifth year boy muttered.

"Thomas is disqualified. Off the pitch." His jaw dropped.

"But – "

"You had your chance. I don't have the time to waste it with people who aren't dedicated."

Al coughed. The whisperings sprung up again. James's eyes shined, and he gripped his broom tightly with anticipation.

"Like you know, beaters can only try out in pairs. You're being ranked on your team cohesion as much as your abilities. So if you don't have a partner and you're trying out to be a beater, either find one in the next 30 seconds or leave." After a couple of seconds, one boy sighed and walked off the pitch, dragging is broom over the dirt.

"Alright then." Dominique smirked. "Let's see which of you have a death wish!"

* * *

First Exercise: Flying around the pitch at the same speed until she told them to stop.

10 minutes.

20 minutes: three people dropped out, grumbling and glaring.

30 minutes: six more dropped out.

40 minutes.

50 minutes: ten more people stopped.

55 minutes: two people dropped out.

59 minutes 20 seconds: one last person dropped out.

1 hour: "TIME!"

Only sixteen people were left.

"That narrows it down." Dominique smiled.

X

Second Exercise: Resilience workout (Push Ups, Lunges, Sit Ups, Squats, and Burpees)

Two more people dropped out mid way through.

A couple minutes later, so did Al. He wasn't very upset. He flashed a thumbs up to his friends. Rose's face was as red as a tomato. Scorpius's robes were drenched with sweat. They smiled weakly.

James was panting furiously, but refused to let his focus drift.

One of the fourth year boys who dropped out sat next to Al on the spectator's stand. He crossed his arms and pouted.

"What does this have to do with Quidditch?"

"I think that explains why you aren't taking the team." Al patted his back good-naturedly.

X

Third Exercise: Strategy Exercise. Everyone was given a paper with a situation and diagram of the formation of all the players in a game. They were asked to write down what they would have everyone do.

Dominique took them in her arms. She would look at them after the other exercises.

X

Fourth Exercise: Meditation for fifteen minutes. Break for another fifteen minutes.

This confused everyone. Dominique rolled her eyes.

"Well I don't want to murder you!"

Many people started coughing and avoiding her gaze again.

X

Fifth Exercise: Playing as a beater, chaser, keeper or seeker.

Scorpius tried out as a seeker. He missed three snitches out of ten, but he caught the most difficult one.

Rose tried out as keeper. She saved eight quaffles out of ten.

James tried out as chaser. He was flawless until the end – in the last minute he faltered and missed the last catch. He wouldn't forgive himself.

"I didn't make it."

"James, you only missed one catch."

"Doesn't matter. I didn't make it."

After ten minutes, they stopped trying to convince him otherwise.

* * *

Dominique took a swig from a water bottle. She examined her clipboard, looking very pleased.

"I want you all to know that it wasn't just how many goals someone saved or how many snitches they caught which determined who made the team. It also had to do with your strategy and resilience. But your Quidditch abilities did matter."

Many peoples' breath quickened. Everyone tensed up, waiting for the results.

"Beaters are Janice and Jessica Jones. Chaser is James Potter." James gasped softly. Scorpius, Rose, and Al grinned, along with many others. A couple bitter fifth years started muttering about favoritism. "Keeper is Douglass Miller." Rose sighed, disappointment flashing over her face, even though the boy chosen was a sixth year. Scorpius grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She smiled up at him sadly. Dominique paused for a minute. "Seeker is Scorpius Malfoy." Most people gasped. Rose dropped his hand.

"He can't be on the team!"

"He'll throw the game on purpose so Slytherin can win!"

"He's not a Gryffindor!"

"Cheater!"

"Liar!"

"Shut your face!" Al sprinted forward from the benches, throwing his arm around Scorpius's shoulder. Scorpius didn't register any of it. His face was blank with shock.

"OI!" Dominique hollered, her powerful voice voice silencing the crowd. "SEEKER IS SCORPIUS MALFOY!" She shook her head. "If you have a problem, I don't particularly care."

Everyone began spilling out, some casting dark glances at him.

Rose looked away. When she turned back to face him she was smiling widely, but Scorpius could tell it was forced.

"Good job Scorpius!" She attempted. After some hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him, but not as tightly as she usually did. "I'm so proud of you."

"I'm so sorry."

"Why?" Her second smile was so genuine. "You deserved it." Scorpius opened his mouth to argue.

"Stop." Rose swallowed. "You did. You do. And you're gonna lead Gryffindor to victory." She grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

"Come on!" Al pushed them both forward. "Let's go celebrate!"

But looking at Rose's discouraged face, Scorpius didn't feel like celebrating.

* * *

 **Hey! I'm so so sorry I haven't been able to update. I had exams (and since I had midterms, I had to write seven exams). Thank you so much for the reviews and support while I was gone! I'm always amazed by it!**

 **I really hope you liked this chapter! I have a goal to get to 85 reviews before I post the next chapter ... it would be great if you could all help me out!**

 **What other characters do you want to see?**


	14. Chapter 14

Once upon a time, Draco Malfoy would have relished these moments. Pureblood parties like these had once been the perfect opportunity to flaunt the superiority of class, wealth, and influence he had felt entitled to since he was a child. He had never been terribly curious as to why he was the most favoured and pampered boy in these social gatherings; he only knew what he had been told, which was that his family was vital to the wizarding world because they were the defenders of the traditional ideals of blood purity. In his mind, his father was a hero who was brave enough to fight to protect the sanctity of their world. Times like those had felt glorious – being permanently surrounded by admirers, all of who wanted to win the favor of the Malfoys to enhance their social standing. He had loved the power that had raced through his veins - the power that came from being in complete control of someone's self worth, someone's importance – everything that had seemed to matter. He had never once considered the possibility that in the exact same place where he had been so revered he would one day be so shunned.

His parents stubbornly insisted that it was necessary for them to attend, despite the fact that none of the families wanted them there anymore. They smiled with patronizing politeness that made Draco growl when he was on his own, smirking in the condescending way which he had once foolishly thought only he was capable of. They gossiped amongst themselves – middle aged women in flamboyant dress robes and prideful heirs taking pleasure in discussing the Malfoys' plummet from power and grace. But his parents couldn't forget that only two years ago, they were at the center of pureblood supremacy. They were admired, feared, praised and flattered. They were the essence of every Slytherin ideal. But now they had become dirt at the bottom of everyone's' shoes; they had betrayed both Voldemort and the Ministry at the same time, resulting in everyone believing them to be nothing but weak frauds. They had been reduced to a joke people enjoyed mocking, particularly after the many years of feeling jealous of their fame. Watching them watch him with their pathetic little triumph made Draco want to bash his head against the marble wall he spent hours standing by, usually alone once Goyle found pathetic excuse to escape him after twenty minutes. Draco had stopped trying to stop him after a while.

He was forced to stand upright with feigned arrogance in uncomfortable dress robes and pretend his dignity wasn't being smeared into the ground. No girls wanted to dance with a disgrace like him, which was a complete shift from when all the female Slytherins had been attempting to capture his interests with their limited womanly wiles. Most had failed to meet his expectations for beauty and elegance, and at the time he had never considered the possibility that his standards had been ridiculously high. He had always received the best, and why should the woman hanging on his arm be anything different? Pansy, while having distinct pug like qualities, exceeded the essential quality of complimenting and petting his ego. She also had the loudest, and therefore most enjoyable, reactions and groveling when he toyed with her. Draco wondered if he would continue to treat her the same way if he was in the same position as he had been in a couple years ago. He felt a hint of shame when he realized that it was very likely that he would.

God, he needed a drink. A full night of gulping down multiple bottles of strong firewhiskey to drown away his thoughts. Maybe he would hook up with Pansy again; the girl's brain had always been slower than everyone else's, so she was still lost in the obsession of being the great Draco Malfoy's girlfriend from a couple years ago. That's the reason Draco gave at least – he never entertained the thought that she had truly come to love him. So far, he found a reason to be conveniently absent every time she dropped by his Manor. There wasn't really much purpose in having a girlfriend if nobody was jealous of the girl that was. And Pansy's utter lack of attractive appeal was surpassing the desire to hear her love struck compliments. It just wasn't worth it anymore.

Draco shifted on his feet uncomfortably, feeling a sudden sympathy for the house elves permanently positioned around the room, holding glasses of firewhiskey and butterbeer in silence for the entire night. _Dear Merlin… I'm sympathizing with stupid, empty headed, ugly house elves._ This was probably the most severe blow to his ego – he was supposed to be too important to even consider that those pathetic creatures deserved a second thought.

On this particular evening, after an agonizing day of ministry authorized searches through the Malfoy Manor, Draco was more irritated and frustrated than usual. He desperately wanted to hit something, or hurt someone. Anything to escape the mindless tittering and drunken laughter surrounding him. Anything to relive himself of the guilt and anger pounding against his skull. He pushed himself off the wall and began walking absolutely no where with feigned purpose and a long stride, not noticing who was in front of him until crashed into someone.

"Oh!" The red liquid from the glass in her hands splashed upon his shoes. "I'm so sorry!" The girl apologized as she stumbled back. Draco barely looked at her. All he was thinking of was relieving his annoyance, and was almost thankful to this girl for being such an easy target.

"Watch where you're going!" He snapped. "These shoes are worth more than your entire body!"

"Of course." She nodded courteously. "I'm so sorry. It was all my fault." Draco glared sharply, grasping for something offensive to say, relishing the momentary power that filled his veins from degrading someone else.

"If I were you," He sniffed with contempt, "I'd refill that glass and pour it over your ugly dress. Anything's better than that atrocity. One would think you found it in the garbage among mud -" Draco coughed slightly, as if the word held a bitter edge, " – bloods and muggles." Draco didn't notice that the peacock colored robes were the envy of all the other girls in the room.

The girl bent her head and turned away, not responding.

"And next time, I'll expect you to buy me some new shoes. But judging from the state of that dress, you'll have to sell your own house to do it." He whirled around and continued forward without any destination, not feeling much relieved.

"Feel better now?" She called after him. Her powerful voice rang over the distance, not matching the portrait of a shy girl Draco had painted in his mind. He froze, before turning around very slowly. What greeted his eyes was a tall woman with an undaunted gaze, who wouldn't look away no matter how long he glared. Her lack of response over his sneer frustrated him in ways he couldn't describe.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He snarled. She tilted her head.

"After thinking you hurt someone? Do you feel better? More powerful? Was it enough to fix all the pathetic problems in your life?" She snorted sardonically.

"Pathetic? _How dare you?_ " Draco bristled, shoving away the hints of remorse that threatened to seep through his skin. He remembered the Dark Lord's cold laughter… the nights of laying in fear at the thought of his entire family's lives resting upon his shoulders… the memories of Bellatrix and Fenrir Greyback torturing innocent people just steps away from him. _Who the fuck was she to decide how important his problems were?_ "I don't know who you think you are – "

"Astoria Greengrass." She straightened her shoulders as she said it, her cheeks burning with a prideful glow. Draco's jaw dropped despite of himself.

"Ast – wait, Daphne Greengrass's mousy little sister?" Draco had to blink a couple times to make sure his sleep deprived brain wasn't making it up.

"If that's how you remember me, then I suppose." Astoria crossed her arms, assuming a slightly haughty expression.

Astoria Greengrass had never been particularly liked nor disliked. No one ever attempted to bully her, mainly because they were frightened of her sister's talent in transfiguration. Daphne had never hesitated in using her skill to punish those who dared cross her path, and by extension her sister's (something which Pansy learned in their fourth year; an event which resulted in Draco having to withstand her incessant whining for days). Astoria was simply another face among many; unmemorable in a way which was neither good nor bad. While she was occasionally noted for her sharp brain and studious nature, which had resulted in her eventually choosing to study healing, she was so unassuming that it had rarely caught anyone's attention.

"What the… what are you…?"

"What am I? I'm a little annoyed that you would be willing to hurt me just because you thought I was an easy target." Draco forced himself to roll his eyes, irritation creeping up his shoulders. This woman in front of him was yet another example of how he was being surpassed by all the people who had once been so decidedly inferior to him.

"As if I care." He was already turning around to leave.

"I don't hate you." She blurted out. For some reason, that made Draco stop. "What I mean to say is… that any reason I have to dislike you is from the last five minutes of talking with you. And maybe the fact that you were a very self centered fourteen-year-old. But that's – that's not enough to build any emotion that… can't change." Astoria bit her lip, looking slightly confused at her own words.

"So?" Draco's feet felt stuck to the ground.

"So… you don't have to think my opinion about you was already made up. I… I didn't already think you were a bad person." He raised his chin.

"What does that have to do about anything?" His voice felt stiff, even to himself. Astoria leaned over and squeezed his shoulder.

"I think you know." In a couple more seconds, she would be gone.

"Maybe I'm just a bad person." He spat the words out, shocked that there was a twinge of regret within them.

"Do you want to be?" Astoria raised her eyebrows. Draco opened his mouth to respond with a bitter retort, but he couldn't force the words out of his mouth. _What does it matter what I want to be if I'm too weak to be it?_

"Then let's start again." Astoria extended her hand, but Draco didn't take it. She shrugged casually, but Draco could have sworn her warm gray eyes were sparkling.

"Better than insulting my dress." She smirked. "Which, I'll have you know, is worth more than your entire body Mr. Malfoy."

* * *

It was odd that when you noticed someone once, you began seeing them everywhere you went. Draco Malfoy was shocked at how much a girl who was absolutely invisible to him only a couple weeks ago was now consuming his entire life.

She was there at all of the parties, but she never sat among one group of people. She sometimes sat with her mother among the old pureblood women, however she became unable to sit still when they became invested in their favorite topics of discussion – marrying off their young daughters, the disappointment they felt that Voldemort's extreme tactics had resulted in the failure of their ideologically noble cause, and fabrics for their custom designed robes. Sometimes she'd pass a remark that would cause a couple to flinch and her mother to blush and glare furiously. For some reason it pleased him whenever she did that. As if he was living some odd internal fantasy through her.

She never fit in with the other younger wizards and witches either – Theodore Nott or Blaise Zabini or all the other girls who were friends with/had been insulted by Pansy (they usually fell in both categories). Even the one or two girls Draco had seen Astoria with in the Slytherin common room years ago were not often found with her. Whenever they were having discussions, Draco noticed that Astoria's eyes would glaze over and she'd begin to examine the curtains or the house elves or the patterns of the chandeliers.

She sometimes lingered by the food table, and Draco noticed she had a penchant for the pumpkin pasties.

She often played with the children, and was one of the few people to do so. Most pure bloods refused to look back upon childhood by associating with kids in any way once they passed the age of thirteen and were officially presented to the pureblood world. But Astoria had a peculiar talent of making them giggle and laugh. She even told stories in the funny voices and exaggerated actions that children loved. Most of them he was sure she made up, because even he was occasionally interested in what twist she would end them with. There was something about her animated gestures and bright eyes that captured attention, which made Draco question for the millionth time how she had managed to be so invisible for so long.

When she wasn't occupied with entertaining the children, she usually slid out of the circles quietly when no one was paying much attention. More than once, Draco saw her duck inside an empty room or through a velvet curtain unto a balcony. While Draco once considered it, he could never convince himself to follow her.

Draco almost dared to hope that she was just as confused and lost as he was. But he knew that wasn't the case, because while she was choosing to drift away from the things she seemed to struggle with identifying, he knew he would choose to be back with all those same people if they would give him the chance.

He even began hearing about her everywhere – it felt as if every conversation revolved around Astoria Greengrass. Apparently, she was studying to be Healer at St. Mungo's – a fact that was a great embarrassment to her parents and a great affront to those who recounted the tale, mainly because it involved touching all sorts of blood purities and was greatly detracting from her matrimonial prospects. Pure-blooded women weren't supposed to work, even though intelligence was an excellent token to enhance one's desirability; they had other duties that needed attending – primarily entertaining in the drawing room, giving orders to house elves in the kitchen, and taking orders in the bedroom.

Draco didn't know how he felt about that. The concept was so foreign – that a pure-blooded woman had much purpose other than to simper as she clung to the arm of her beau and gush over him as Pansy once had. At one time it might have disgusted him to hear of a pure-blooded woman demeaning herself by saving the lives of mudbloods who left the world much better off if they were dead. He was sure it still repulsed his parents. His ideal woman used to be the one who possessed the simple grace of his devoted mother; whose primary objective was to satisfy the wants he considered needs. But he wasn't sure how he felt anymore, and Astoria's determination to have a job only added in making her more of a peculiar oddity that provided a nice distraction to contemplate of as he hung back in the shadows. A better subject that the house elves.

But he also learned that Theodore Nott was interested in her, that she was becoming more and more of a disgrace due to the amount of time she was suspected of spending in Muggle London, was very close to her sister who she called Daffy, had a love of potions –

"I don't know why people are worried about you being a spy." Draco would never admit how hard he flinched. He whirled around and was greeted by the sight of a smirking Astoria leaning against the wall.

Draco never truly understood how infuriating his smirking was until he met Astoria Greengrass. He tried to form a response.

"Huh?" Draco used to pride himself on his eloquence of speech. So much for that.

"Because usually," Astoria dragged the words from her lips with a deliberate leisurely quality, "Being a spy requires a little more effort to be placed in hiding your attempts at stalking your target. So it is usually done with a little more stealth than staring at someone blankly from across the room. Astoria took a step forward. "You, Draco Malfoy, are a terrible spy." Draco cleared his through, already feeling his pride rising through it, shaping itself into misshapen insults.

"I couldn't help it." He sneered, "You always look so atrocious that I can't help but notice the abominable train wrecks that you presume to be stylish. I assume you hope it allows you to resemble your muggle loving brethren – I am aware that you all enjoy making such pitiful fools of yourself." Astoria seemed faintly amused.

"Mr. Malfoy, I don't see what my attire had to do with you almost crying when Mr. Hippogriff died in the story I told Lucille." Draco's cheeks colored; he wouldn't admit it, but it had depressed him very much when the Hippogriff gave up his life to save the dragon that had bullied him since they were kids. It seemed thoroughly unfair that such an undeserving bully had survived at the expense of the irritatingly noble hippogriff. Draco also found it annoying how it was impossible to dislike such heroic characters – they were always proving that they were eternally better than everyone else.

"I thought," Draco pronounced each word with distinct clarity, "It was a ridiculous story. I was pained at the thought that the little girls would actually believe the garbage that sounded like it was written by a Hufflepuff." Astoria's brow creased and she seemed a little more defensive.

"Really? Which parts failed to meet your impossibly high standards?"

"Other than the fact that no living creature would be stupid enough to die for an bully with nothing worth being arrogant about," Draco remarked dryly, "I found it ridiculously unrealistic." Astoria crossed her arms.

"Well that's certainly a problem," Astoria smacked her forehead dramatically, "Stories for five year old children should obviously be as accurately depressing as reality. Their main purpose is obviously not to make people feel… oh I don't know… _happy_!" Draco ignored the jabs.

"The hippogriff died for nothing." Draco insisted. Astoria became more curious at this sentence; she cocked her head and examined him.

"I never considered saving someone's life as nothing."

"You stated that the dragon continued the work of the hippogriff and made sure everyone in the kingdom knew the dangers of bullying and discrimination. That hopeless idealism is detrimental when taught to young children."

"Yes." Astoria nodded with mock seriousness, "They might actually consider becoming good people. Merlin forbid – the pureblood society wouldn't be able to handle such rebellion."

" _The dragon_ ," Draco clenched his teeth, "Would have have been just as selfish after he'd been saved by the hippogriff. He would have lived out his days in the same way as before – nothing good came from the hippogriff sacrificing his _brave_ soul for another hopeless case." Draco's voice became edged with bitterness.

Astoria stepped a little closer. "I don't think the hippogriff had a goal or a plan when he saved the dragon. He was just doing what he would have done for anyone."

"I know!" Draco snapped, "He was just being _honorable_ , and _selfless,_ and _noble_ … but he didn't realize that it was just stupid and pointless – just like him."

"But," Astoria interjected, "You don't think it would have affected him – to be saved by the one person he tormented? Who he hated? Who he may even have felt a little bit of… jealousy towards?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"Of course it affected him! But I doubt he would've done anything about it. He's too pathetic. Too weak." Astoria shrugged.

"Well it's a possibility." Astoria seemed casual as she fingered her sleeve. "What's wrong with hoping for the best outcome?"

"It's just not true." Draco huffed. "It's pointless to want what's impossible." Astoria eyed him carefully before smiling slowly.

"Well that's the thing Mr. Malfoy – I don't think it's impossible. In fact – I think they main problem is when people like you and I think it's impossible. People aren't generally much better than what you expect them to be."

Draco wasn't sure how to respond, especially since her eyes seemed to be laughing at her own private joke, so he decided to simply sniff disdainfully. They stood together for a few awkward seconds.

"Well!" Astoria's voice was upbeat and cheery, "This was fun. We should do this thing again – where you insult my children's stories, my attire… just about everything… and I can pretend I actually care!"

Draco stared at his wall. He was beginning to almost enjoy staring at the swirling patterns.

"And for Merlin's sake, if you want to insult my clothes that badly, wash that pathetic gel out of your hair! You sound like a hypocrite." With that, Astoria patted his cheek and skipped away.

That should have offended him much more than it actually did.

* * *

He hadn't been stalking her this time, and the fact that he had to clarify this to himself was a little depressing. But it was true; it wasn't considered stalking if the event being watched was large enough and loud enough to attract the attention of everyone in the room.

That being said – it probably shouldn't have fascinated him as much as it did.

Like most unpleasant occurrences in pureblood parties, it began with an insult that was thinly veiled as a compliment. The source in this case was Theodore Nott's mother, who was currently dealing with the unpleasant occurrence of her son fancying a girl she had already deemed as unsuitable.

"'I've always envied you your girls Blair!" Mrs. Nott cooed, unaware that her lipstick had smeared when she sipped her tea, giving her a very comical, clownish appearance. "Always such soft – spoken, elegant young ladies throughout their childhood. They were a true credit to their education and upbringing." Mrs. Greengrass made a show of blushing and attempting to appear modest by attributing their superiority to their pure-blooded heritage. Astoria simply nodded her thanks; it was important to note that Daphne chose not to attend this particular party due to the fact that she was at home with a "cold". Draco was pretty sure that she was actually snogging Blaise Zabini under a tree somewhere, but his suspicions were irrelevant.

"Of course," Mrs. Nott's tone soured, "It is difficult to maintain such a strong control over their lives as they grow older. It becomes more difficult to hide their inner desire to… rebel against the natural order of things. Of course, this is no fault to the ones who worked to tirelessly in failing to convert them." Mrs. Greengrass's face froze into a frosty smile as Mrs. Nott patted the other woman's hand. At this point, most of the other ladies were focused intently upon the delightfully juicy conflict that was arising. Astoria tightened her grip on the handle of the teacup.

"I'm not entirely sure what you mean Genevieve?" Mrs. Greengrass simpered sweetly.

"Oh," Mrs. Nott took an extra couple tantalizing seconds to readjust her position and take a prolonged sip of tea. "I only mean to say that while Daphne is indeed charming and beautiful – though to an almost self absorbed degree some might say – Astoria has made some rather… _unprecedented decisions_ in terms of her life. I mean, to be working with so much dirty blood in that horrid place… to think of the mudbloods she's touched… frankly, I am worried she may have acquired a disease at this point. Such conditions are hardly a place for a future pureblood wife – how on earth is she supposed to be trusted to produce magical heirs after being tainted with so many muggle… diseases? I only meant to say that I thoroughly understand and congratulate your effort over the years of proper pureblood education, despite the current… state of affairs." Ms. Nott ignored Astoria's ferocious glare, feeling pleased with the amount of nods of agreement she was receiving. Many of the other guests, including many of the sneering men, were drawn into the hearing range of the "discussion". Draco didn't know why an anger started to fill his blood; Astoria's decisions were unquestionably unprecedented in a negative way, but his feeling of repulse wasn't directed against her.

"Actually – " Astoria began heatedly, but was interrupted by her mother.

"Oh of course – I completely understand your concerns!" Astoria's mother tittered while waving her manicured hand. "But let me assure you that Astoria doesn't plan on continuing for much longer!" She gave a sugary sweet laugh, as if her daughter's life choices were a trivial joke to her. "She only began because she felt it necessary to ensure that the magic of wizards and witches were being preserved after this _horrid incident_." Her mother's voice dropped when referring to the war. "She has specifically chosen to remain far away from any mudbloods and muggles. All her actions have been to aid the plight of purebloods like us. She's noble like that!"

"Mother, you know that – " Astoria's face was red with anger.

"In fact!" Astoria's mother once again giggled over absolutely nothing, "Astoria was just telling me last night that she wished for me to announce that she was holding a ball in a couple months to celebrate her 20th birthday, where she will choose a beau among many potential suitors! She will have already left her occupation by then, after her work with injured purebloods has reached a point of unequivocal success!"

"I," Astoria growled, "Most certainly will not do anything of that – "

But her words were smothered by a collection of exclamations, and any future attempts at talking were overwhelmed by discussions of decorations and lace.

Only Draco seemed to care when she threw herself up and stomped into the darkness of an empty room. Draco, cursing himself a million times, decided to follow her.

The only light in the room was the delicate sheets of moonlight sliding through the slanted window, reflecting against the many mirrors and shiny objects. The rich red carpets and dragon skin furniture went unnoticed in the darkness. Astoria was seated upon a couch beside the window, staring angrily into the night sky. She didn't seem to notice when Draco stood awkwardly near her, but she shocked him with a sudden outburst just as he decided to slide out of the room while he still could.

"Can you believe it – after everything, _everything_ that's happened, they're content with just sitting around – talking about what someone they don't like wore to a ball or their latest half decent attempt at flying on a broom or the money they just inherited!" Astoria glared furiously at a mirror, as if her own reflection was to blame for this. "It just kills me, _kills me_ , how fake everything is! As if people didn't just die, as if we didn't just fight a war, as if everything we wanted is still worth wanting…What – what is the fucking point of… pretending!" Astoria buried he face in her hands. She was shaking as she continued. "Hasn't everything that's happened… proved that pretending isn't worth it?"

Draco wasn't sure with how to deal with this. Pretending seemed easy. Pretending seemed like the safest option – pretending meant waiting, and Malfoy's had infinite patience when it came to waiting for the opportune moment. But he did suppose that waiting could mean… hiding. He cleared his throat.

"It's easier." After pausing for a moment, he realized he should probably say something more if he truly wanted to ease her conscious. "It's… they've spent their whole lives believing this stuff. Their whole lives fighting to… make it a reality." Draco closed his eyes, imagining the hero his father had been. In other people's eyes – and his own. How earth-shattering it must have been to lose that… self-worth. "They don't want to have…wasted their lives." Astoria laughed humorlessly.

"And they think talking about lace will fill their life with meaning? They hurt people – _we_ hurt people! It's not our place to feel sorry for ourselves, we're too guilty – it's our place to _fix_ it!"

"It was always for the greater good." Draco sighed, rubbing his temples. He was struck by a sudden desire to not have to deal with all this. He was regretting his decision to follow her into the room. "Isn't that what Dumbledore always told people to fight for – the greater good?

"Don't!" Astoria's eyes flashed. "Don't taint his message of equality and sacrifice with such hatred and bigotry!"

"Well that's what they thought!" Draco felt a defensiveness fill him – he wanted to be told, just once, that he did something right. He didn't want the truth. He wanted a beautiful lie, but Astoria wasn't about to give him that. She stamped her foot and pulled herself up. Her gray eyes were raging with thundering storm clouds as she glared at him.

"No – they didn't think, they never did! They listened and they followed, and I listened and I followed – and _thinking –_ was never a part of it!" Astoria began pacing restlessly, raking her hands through her hair, smacked her forehead as if she wanted to remember something. Or forget.

"It – " Draco struggled to form a reply, and he began to wonder why he was trying to.

"We," She growled, "Should be doing what we can to make up for it! To make it right! We should be apologizing, thinking, teaching – doing! I'm tired of pretending it didn't happen, tired of pretending our entire reason for existing wasn't hateful discrimination! I'm tired of talking about marriage as if me resigning myself to a life of unhappiness will actually help someone! We're horrid, all of us, and – "

"YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT?" Draco erupted out of his silent, brooding shell so suddenly that Astoria was shocked. "But guess what! We FAILED – I FAILED! I was supposed to kill Dumbledore, or he would kill my family! But I failed! I failed at being a Death eater, I failed at being a fighter _against_ him, I failed at being a son for my family, I failed at being a pureblood, and I never could be anything but that! I know I FAILED, and I know there's no point in trying to fix it, because I will fail at doing that too!" Draco's breathing had become ragged and Astoria was staring at him with shock painted over her face. Draco stiffened before nodding his head curtly.

"I hope you have a good evening Miss Greengrass." With that, he spun on his heel and all proudly strode out of the room.

* * *

Astoria found him sitting upon the ground of the balcony, for once un caring of the dirt that was probably gathering on his pristine dress robes. He paid no heed when she slid down beside him. The cold air clung to her bare arms and she clenched her teeth to repress a shiver.

"Hi." Draco didn't respond. Astoria was struck by all of the possibilities of what could be said in that moment. It felt important – critical in a way. As if any future conversation they had would be built upon this. Single. Moment. Astoria almost laughed at the insanity of it all.

"You know what I think is the worst decision you ever made?" Astoria asked calmly. Draco squeezed his eyes shut.

"That hair gel." Draco's eyes snapped open.

"It is truly atrocious." Astoria felt her confidence grow. "Your hair looks as hard as twigs and I am tempted to snap a piece off."

Draco swallowed. "Father thought it looked proper." His voice cracked.

"Well, I have heard that Malfoys enjoy shoving sticks in the oddest of places." Draco was a little too shocked to be properly affronted. "Besides," Astoria added after some contemplation, "Only Harvey Specter can make hair gel look attractive."

Draco turned his neck slowly and stared. "Who?" Astoria covered her mouth to suppress a giggle.

"He's a character from a muggle TV show." Draco opened his mouth, then let it hang. There were so many things he could do. He could turn away in disgust, announce Astoria's interest in muggle items to the others (even if they probably wouldn't believe him), or he could insult her. These were all actions he was well acquainted with performing.

"What's… what's a Tee…Vee?" His answer shocked himself.

Now it was Astoria who stared. "Pureblood ignorance." She shook her head, astounded. "You know – I think if they knew how incredible all these things they created are, they would never be able to call them stupid and inferior!"

Draco didn't react.

"A TV is like a box of moving pictures. They show stories with people moving and talking."

"But…" Draco's brow crinkled. "That's…magic… they're stealing magic!" Draco sat up, suddenly angry. Astoria snorted before leaning over and gently pushing him back down by the shoulders.

"No… they have a million different pathways based on electricity, radio waves… I think magnets have something to do with it… maybe?"

Draco leaned away, suddenly scared. Astoria suddenly grinned widely with excitement.

"Draco Malfoy, we have a lot to discuss."

* * *

Astoria had no idea why she was so drawn to him. They had just fought a war a couple years ago – a war of mindless hatred and blind bigotry; a war that was spearheaded by the simultaneous subservience and arrogant superiority that the Malfoys had represented. They had been everything that Astoria now wanted nothing to do with.

And in many ways, they still were. She had a feeling that if they had a choice, they would much rather be ignorant in the spotlight rather than enlightened from where they currently were.

And they probably weren't trying very hard to be enlightened.

She had to constantly remind herself that Draco Malfoy wasn't hiding a prince charming or kind hearted beneath all his dry jokes and sullen brooding. He was a boy who'd been a child for too long and had suddenly been forced to be a man too early. She didn't want to justify his bullying as not knowing any better, but somewhere in the speculations of how he had felt and what he felt know and who he wanted to be arose a fierce desire, and burning desire, to _know more._

Maybe it was the stories. When she first noticed that Draco Malfoy was staring at her, whenever she was having a conversation with someone or was by the food table, she felt a little annoyed and uncomfortable. Who was he to stare at her as if he was entitled to the view? She didn't belong to him, and he had no right to tread upon her personal comfort and feelings of security with his intense grey eyes.

But she felt differently when she began telling her stories to the little children. He always edged closer to their circle, and the curiosity and amazement on the children's faces were mirrored by his. Astoria began to wonder how he felt about the tales she made up on the spot and why he was interested in them. She wanted what he found in them that resembled what he felt or thought.

Because Astoria had a rule of thumb she always tried to remember: People that were interested in other people's stories were usually hiding a couple of their own.

And so Astoria decided to start the mission to officially force her way into Draco's life.

* * *

"I don't even know why I continue to waste my time in your company."

"And what better things do you have to do Mr. Malfoy?" Astoria kicked off her shoes and crossed her legs on the couch. They were once again in an empty room with the sounds of the party on the periphery. Astoria had forcibly forced him off the wall and dragged him into the room as if they were about to have a secret snog. "Are you missing the scintillating conversations of your wall?"

"I'll have you know that I enjoyed the freedom of not having to deal with the other fools in the room." Draco almost convinced himself.

"But then again," Astoria ignored him, "The ability to form basic, coherent sentences haven't really been a requirement in your choice of friends. I wouldn't be surprised if you simply mistook the wall as that gargantuan toad that looks permanently lost."

"Goyle."

"Yes. That."

"He's shy." Draco attempted. "It's not fair for you to insult him."

"Draco, are you seriously telling people off for being insulting?" Draco was taken aback by her use of his name.

"He has a great deal of…" Draco struggled for words, _"Qualities,_ once you get to know him better." He had no idea why he felt a need to defend his relationship (he was hesitant to call it a friendship, even after all these years) with Goyle. It just seemed to be all that he had left from the past.

"Well if getting to know him is required to see them, I have no idea how you were able to. I bet you didn't even know his first name until you were fourteen."

"We spent a lot of time together!" Draco growled.

"It seemed a lot more like you performing monologues for an audience who only half understood it. But sure, why not? What are his wonderful… qualities?"

"He's loyal." Draco insisted. Astoria snorted.

"Is lacking a brain really considered loyalty, or just the inability to look farther than two feet to find something better to be loyal to?"

"He was very funny when he wanted to be."

"I also find it amusing when a fifteen-year-old boy purposefully hits a bludger at his own team mate because he forgot that green is his house color.""

"That was only once!" Draco blushed. "And it was only because he was up until three the night before helping a first year with… homework." Astoria raised an eyebrow.

"More likely that the first year was helping him with homework. And I'm pretty sure it was just helping the first year shove their head in a toilet. Wasn't it that Eric kid that cheeked you in front of the common room?"

"I hated that kid." Draco glared.

"He literally had more brains than your two friends had body weight. And that's saying a lot. He was pretty brilliant." Draco stiffened.

"Crabbe… wasn't like Goyle."

"How?" Astoria didn't notice Draco's seriousness, "He didn't know what a crab was, even if it was his last name? Cause that's reaching insane heights of stupidity."

"He argued with me sometimes." Astoria's eyebrows shot up. Draco continued before he lost his nerve. "He didn't always like doing… what I asked. Sometimes. He'd glare at me, or mutter, or groan whenever I asked him to do something. He didn't have any problem with beating people up – he really enjoyed it. But just being ordered around… I think he was always secretly waiting for a chance to do the same. And I guess he sort of got it… briefly before he… died. Once… once he told me to 'to get off my ass and start doing the things I was handing to my slaves'. I usually just threatened him with hurting his family or… shaming them. What my father would do… what his father would think if he chose to abandon the great position he had with the Malfoy. You know – I never really understood that threats could seriously be terrifying. They were always… not real enough to mean anything to me when I made them." Draco licked his dry lips. "I never thought of how much I wanted to think they actually liked doing what I told them. As if they were made to do what I wanted. It was the closest thing to friendship I had."

Astoria swallowed.

"I think… no one really knows what friendship is until they experience it. You can't want something you don't know exists."

They paused for a couple moments to analyse the patterns of the couch.

"And Pansy? Any hidden insights on your seemingly… superficial relationship?"

Draco groaned. "When it comes to anything with her, what you see is what you get. Unfortunately."

* * *

"He said that?"

"Yeah, he did. Prat didn't know what was about to hit him."

"What hex did you use?"

"Hex?" Astoria flipped her hair back with a self-satisfied smile. "I didn't bother taking out my wand. I punched him in the nose."

"Really?" Draco chuckled. "And that was enough to break it?"

"Please… it took less than thirty seconds to fix it. But if you had heard that sexist pig, you would have thought he was on death's doorstep." Draco attempted to repress the memory of doing the exact same thing when Buckbeak had slashed at his arm.

"I heard Hermione Granger did the same to you." Astoria smirked slyly, crossing her arms. Draco scratched his nose.

"Well, she actually slapped me. But I don't doubt she would have broken my nose if she had given a punch." Draco was shocked he admitted that.

"Bet you deserved it." Draco opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Draco had ordered people around. Insulted people. Boasted to people. But he had never, in his entire life, exchanged small talk with someone. Mainly because small talk involved two people, and Crabbe and Goyle had never bothered replying to most of what he had said to them. But this had already seemed to grow beyond small talk.

"You were never like this." The words accidently slipped from his mouth. Like he expected, Astoria's eyebrows scrunched together as she snapped away defensively.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing! Just… you… you were quiet. Not really… strong… or funny. Like now."

"And you were an arse." Astoria snapped. "What's your point?"

"Well I just – "

"Scratch that. You're still an arse."

"Why are you getting defensive?" Draco growled.

"I don't know." She began glaring at the air in front of her. "I just don't like people talking about which version of me they like better." She scratched her neck.

"You have to admit you've changed in some way?"

Astoria shrugged, still seeming tense.

"I'm just curious." Draco coughed.

Astoria tilted her head. Draco couldn't help admiring the way the candlelight slid down the strands of her hair, illuminating it.

"I just… I've always had thoughts you know. I just…" She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. "After the war… I didn't… I realized I had never believed any of that stuff about muggles… I just never listened to myself. I didn't trust that I could be… right. But I trust myself now. And I'm tired of hiding myself. Because what good did it do? Sitting quiet? Nodding my head? I'm tired of all this guilt – guilt I could have avoided by just being myself! I _wish_ I stayed to fight. _I really do_. I could have saved somebody! But I ran away instead." She paused, before plunging forward with determination. "I never want to run again." She asserted, jutting out her chin.

Draco looked away. Astoria reached forward and gently touched her hand to his pale cheek. A shiver scuttled down his spine.

"And you?" Draco couldn't meet her eyes. She leaned forward, her eyes remaining fixed upon his face.

"I believed it." He muttered. "But I never really did need an excuse to think I was better than someone else. And if my father, my mother, or anyone else asked me right now, I'd say that I still do."

Astoria nodded, her face blank.

"You don't believe me?" He demanded, more aggressively than necessary. He roughly shoved away her hands.

"I do." She whispered softly. Draco stared at her.

"But…?"

"But what?"

"Why aren't you disgusted?" Draco felt exasperated with this woman's inability to understand the obvious.

"I am – but no more than I am with myself." Astoria shrugged. "It's very difficult to blame someone for doing the same things you did. You get it?"

"You think I'm weak." Draco informed her, aggression entering his body language once again. Astoria contemplated the statement.

"That's debatable."

"Why!?" He snarled.

"Because you were strong enough to change from what you were then to what you are now."

"From a scared little boy to a scared little man?" Draco began spitting the words out.

"From a person who couldn't think for himself to a person who does."

"No I can't." Draco sneered. "You're just deluding yourself."

"Yes, you can. You just don't act on it. But don't you see? You've grown! And if you can grow from what you were then to what you are now, tomorrow you can become someone even better." Draco wouldn't look into her hopeful eyes, because he couldn't bear to imagine the disappointment he was sure would one day fill them.

"No I can't." Draco pushed himself off the couch, trudging away with a sullen expression, reminding himself over and over again that her belief was misplaced. But somewhere in all the denial, her question slipped through his thoughts. And it wouldn't leave.

 _What's the point of being alive?_

* * *

Astoria never really comforted him when he told stories of being a prat. An arsehole. But she wouldn't let him say he would always be a prat. Always be an arsehole.

* * *

"They're staring at us." Draco growled under his breath. Astoria shook her head with amusement as she dug through her purse, searching for her money pouch. They were standing in front of Flourish and Botts in Diagon Alley. Sheets of frost shone over the streets and windows. Draco's words held a grain of truth – several witches and wizards cast them surprised glances, occasionally whispering amongst themselves. But as usual, the boy was exaggerating the situation in his head, considering most people were more concerned about their shopping than the love interests of childish pureblood. Not that Draco or Astoria actually considered their odd friendship as resembling anything remotely like love.

"If I recall correctly, you enjoy being the center of attention."

"It seems as if your recollections are lacking the memory of a war we recently fought." Draco huffed, eyeing the specks of mud on his polished dragon skin shoes with petty disdain. Astoria suddenly cursed aloud, stomping her foot.

"You know that ladies aren't supposed to swear." Yet it amused Draco whenever she did. "My mother would be scandalized."

"Your mother gets scandalized whenever someone wears the same clothes to dinner that they wore for tea two hours earlier." Astoria continued to glare at her purse as if it had offended her.

"What is it?" Draco tried to peek into it, but Astoria pulled it out of his sight.

"Nothing important. I just left my money pouch at home. Daffy took it out of my purse to borrow a couple galleons, and I forgot to put it back." It had begun to snow a little, and the beads of a couple melted snowflakes were glittering upon Astoria's lush brown hair.

"Well that hardly matters. I'll buy your things of course. I was planning to anyway." Draco nodded as if the matter was already settled. Astoria's head snapped up and her grey eyes flashed dangerously. "I. Can pay. For myself." She pronounced each syllable with succinct clarity.

"That'll be a little difficult," Draco spoke through clenched teeth, "Considering you left all of your _money_ at home."

"Then I'll just make a stop at Gringotts. You don't need to wait for me if you have things to do. Go on ahead." Astoria whirled on her feet and began walking in the opposite direction to the bank.

"It's a waste of time Astoria!" He called after her. He also cursed and stomped hurriedly after her. He grabbed her arm and yanked her back in a way that filled Astoria with a sudden rush of anger.

"Don't t _ouch_ me or _pull_ me as if you _own_ me." She practically spat. Draco let go of her, but they continued to glare at each other fiercely, and attracted many more stares as they did so.

"I don't need your help Draco. Or your money." The idea of borrowing Draco's money bothered her very much, even though she knew he would never make the connection as to why. But she had already spent so much of her life under the expectation that she would one day be nothing more than an overdressed doll belonging to some man who would make her run his home as repayment for him earning and paying for her "necessary frivolities". She held great pride in earning her own money, in a job at St Mungo's that she had studied for years to achieve. Her money was her independence, and she valued nothing more than her independence. But Draco never considered this when he threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Well if that's the problem, then you don't need to worry! I already know you don't need me, not in any way, and you don't have to throw all sense out of the window trying to prove it! Pay it back if you have to, but I was just trying to be chivalrous." A red tinge appeared in Draco's Astoria felt the anger seep out of her.

"…I…" Astoria swallowed, "We can split the money." Draco shrugged coolly.

* * *

Astoria examined the study critically. It mostly empty except for emerald green curtains surrounding the window, an expensive mahogany table with a potted plant, and a plush velvet chair. She could count the number of objects on her right hand – the closest it got to personal was a framed photo of Draco and his mother, and even that was likely to be the result of Narcissa's persistent pestering. If it weren't for that, Astoria would have had no idea that this study belonged to Draco Malfoy as opposed to anyone else.

"Well." She said while crossing her arms. "This is a bit of a disappointment." Draco closed the door behind them softly before gazing at the room with nonchalance.

"What were you expecting?"

"Oh, I don't know. Skulls with eyes that glow red. Or mirrors that tell you horrendous stories of your future misery when you look into them. I was even willing to settle with a couple haunted dolls. The standard stuff really." Draco gave one of his signature dry chuckles.

"Noted. I'll take your opinion into consideration when I plan an illegal trip to Knockturn Alley. I expect you to find a way to evade the restrictions the ministry has placed upon my collection of dark objects." Astoria threw her head back and laughed.

"You have to admit Draco – it's a little boring. There's only one photo – which doesn't include your father or your friends." _What friends?_ Draco was about to ask. "There isn't even a Slytherin crest anywhere. Even the rest of the house is a little dull if you ask me." Draco recoiled away abruptly.

" _Excuse me?_ Dull? _Dull?_ I'm _sorry_ , was the Peruvian vase in the dining room embedded with sapphires and diamonds - that cost thousands of galleons, you know - not _big_ enough for you? Or was the candlestick that was a gift from the French Minister of magic to my great great grandfather as thanks for purifying his cabinet – "

"it's not about the wealth Draco! It doesn't show much except that you're a lot of self-absorbed, pretentious show offs – which, by the way, is spot on." Draco gasped. "It doesn't say anything about who you are! Your interests or your hobbies. Your passions, or even the people you love!" Astoria ran her finger over the single silver photo frame.

"When I buy my own home," Astoria sighed, "It will be nothing like this tragedy."

"Well," Draco muttered with a miffed expression, "It's a good thing this isn't your home."

"Yes." Astoria nodded, still lost in her land of fantasies, "When I have my own house, I'll have it filled with my children's drawings – or just that of my little nieces and nephews, since I'll probably never have kids – and pictures of my travels to hospitals around the world and – "

"You wish to travel?" Draco's voice became softer and curious. Astoria nodded eagerly while clapping her hands and bouncing on the balls of her feet. She seemed so tiny and optimistic, and Draco suddenly wished he could do something. Something that would amaze her, something that would fill her curious eyes with wonder, something that would impress her – a hopeless fantasy really.

"It's always been a dream of mine!" She blushed and began playing with her fingers. "A little silly, I know, but I always felt that going to new places and meeting new people – helping them… it would make me feel… important. Valued. And happy – definitely happy."

"That's not silly." Draco's voice was rough with shrouded emotion. Astoria suddenly looked up eagerly.

"– what are your hobbies?" Draco opened his mouth, then closed it. He was suddenly struck by how empty his life had always been.

"I don't have any. Except insulting Potter and Weasel – Weasley. I used to spend half my time making plans on how to get them in trouble or expelled. I talked a lot to my… friends… about it. It was mostly Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy actually." Draco shook his head bitterly. "But I can hardly do that now, considering I owe them my life – and my freedom." Astoria's hand drifted over his arm.

'What about Quidditch?" Astoria suggested.

"Oh I never – " Draco suddenly froze. He looked over his shoulder, paranoid that his father would somehow hear. When he spoke again, it was in a much quieter whisper. "I never really… enjoyed it."

"You never liked flying?" Astoria couldn't help but blurt out in shock.

"Flying was alright. I actually enjoyed it before I started playing for the school team. But I never really cared much for Quidditch. I pretended so much, I think I convinced myself. But when I was a kid, it was the only thing my father and I really did together. And I… I didn't want to disappoint him." Astoria tightened her grip on his arm. "I think you can see that after everything that's happened… it's lost any sort of appeal it might have once possessed."

Astoria was quiet for some time. "Well..." She paused, "That settles it."

"What?"

"Our plans for the next few months." Draco was uneasy.

"Which are?"

"Draco Malfoy, we're going to find you a hobby." Astoria gave him a determined nod.

It was a goal that Astoria became surprisingly dedicated to. To Draco's initial dislike, Astoria became set on teaching him muggle hobbies, in the hopes of killing two birds with one stone. He refused point blank to kick the odd colored "football" around and and simply took a step to the side when she served him a "tennis ball", and accidently threw the gold club in the air while attempting to hit the golf ball. However, he did become very competitive during their beach volleyball game – he had an excellent serve. Regardless of the activity, he enjoyed staring at Astoria's tight fitting sports bra from the corner of his eye very much.

While he'd shunned Herbology in school as being "an empty-headed subject only fools like Longbottom could enjoy", he found gardening almost… soothing. He decided he wanted to create his own mini garden on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Astoria helped him buy him the plants and flowers he liked. Pansies were definitely not one of them, but he did like orchids and daisies, and he liked growing vegetables. Once he invited Astoria excitedly to serve her a dish made solely of tomatoes, corn, and strawberries that he had grown and cooked (and burned).

He enjoyed baking gingersnap cookies with her too, especially when they started a "flour fight" that eventually involved running and throwing flour all over the previously spotless rooms of Malfoy Manor. Draco realized later that night that if someone had told him at age fourteen that he would enjoy baking cookies like an old woman or little girl, he would have had Crabbe and Goyle put them in the hospital wing.

While he hated most muggle machinery, he had lots of fun canoeing. Even if his lack of coordination with paddling resulted in him and Astoria revolving on the spot for twenty minutes.

He thought flying kites was pointless and most board games did indeed "bore" him. But he found chess fascinating. He was almost tempted to write the names of death eaters on the dark chess pieces, and the names of the Order on the white ones. He spent a whole hour debating in his mind over whether or not Harry would be the queen or the king.

He screamed when he accidently dropped a bowling ball on his foot. He proceeded to call the game stupid and refused to play it. The same occurred when he got a paper cut from attempting to do origami.

He knew how to ballroom dance from a young age, considering that it was a proper skill that all purebloods were supposed to learn. But Astoria took him salsa dancing, in which he proceeded to step upon her toes more times than he would like to remember. But he liked spinning her. And shaking his hips felt interesting.

They also tried making stories together. Draco just ended up listening to hers, with wide eyes and a mouth hanging open. Astoria never got over the innocence and childish excitement he had on his face during those moments; he would eagerly beg her for another, just a small one, every time they saw each other. Which was becoming most of the time Astoria wasn't at St. Mungo's working (Draco thought she worked too much, but she always ignored him).

They ate a lot of food. Sushi made him want to gag, and he had the spice tolerance of a baby, but aside from that he really liked tacos and Indian butter chicken. Astoria had the honor of wiping off ketchup from Draco's nose as he devoured a hot dog.

Astoria once took him to St. Mungo's. When she came back after a couple of hours after her shift, he was leaning against a doorway, staring at the comatose face of an old blond man. She didn't bring him back there again.

Draco tried to pretend that he had read the muggle books Astoria gave him. That act did not fool her for very long – he had no idea who the main character was of _To Kill a Mockingbird,_ his "new favorite book".

He liked building things with wood, hammers and nails the most. There was something about the effort that it took to do stuff with his hands instead of just flicking his wand that made everything… worthwhile. As if there was a point to what he did. He built a birdhouse for Astoria, and they even painted it together.

Draco Malfoy eventually realized that it wasn't any of the actual activities that made all those moments special, even though he did find things he enjoyed doing. It was laughing at Astoria's jokes, insulting her clothing, competing with her over something absolutely inconsequential. It was listening to her tell children's stories or weird facts about muggles that he sometimes pretended to be repulsed by. It was having a snowball fight and drinking hot chocolate with her after wards, talking about all the things he once thought he would never want to say.

So for the first time in his life, he knew he had a hobby.

A friend.

* * *

Some nights, he lay in bed wondering how Astoria Greengrass had convinced him to spill his heart to her. Sometimes, he was grateful for it. Because it was at those times that Draco remembered he had a heart.

* * *

"That." He growled, despite having a pale and shivering face, "Was the worst experience of my entire life."

"Yeah mine too." Astoria joked, "I don't know how my ears survived your incessant wailing."

"You almost killed me!" Astoria rolled her eyes.

"Draco, we were literally below the speeding limit the entire time."

"I'll have you know, that if my father ever hears about this – "

"Ohhhh..." Astoria started giggling wildly, breaking Draco off mid sentence.

"What?"

"Nothing." She seemed to be struggling to contain her laughter. Draco eyed her suspiciously.

"You obviously find something about my near death experience very amusing." He sniffed.

"Asides from the fact that you were in more danger of death when Goyle sat on you in your fourth year? You were just about to threaten to tattle on me. Which would have been fine, minus the fact that you're like what? Twenty two?" Draco started to pout, which only served to prove Astoria's point.

"I don't… they're not… it's not tattling if it's warranted! You took me on a joy ride in your muggle death compartment!"

"It's a car, and it's not mine, it's rented. Little babies go around in them. Are you really saying that little babies are braver than you are?"

"No!" Draco snapped, seeming uncomfortable nonetheless. He eyed the cars streaking past him on the road (which was only about two feet away) warily, "It's just silly." Astoria snorted.

"Everything you can't do is silly or stupid. Like right now – I bet you ten galleons that you'll be so confused and scared by the muggle cellphone, that you'll call it stupid and walk out of the electronics store without even understanding it."

"I'll take that bet." Draco's cheeks glowed red with this affront to his pride. "And I'll win. There is no possible way I won't understand something the brainless muggles created."

* * *

Draco smacked the screen with his finger, flinching slightly every time it made another icon or picture popped up. His eyes widened as the salesmen explained all the features, including talking ("You mean you'll be in France, and I'll still _hear_ you?"), texting ("You mean you can _see_ the words I wrote?"), the music ("Where is it? I can hear it! _Where is it Astoria?"_ ) and the touch screen ("I'm not doing anything! I just touched it!"). He was stunned when Astoria clicked a picture of them together ("You mean it's still there? On this tiny thing?"). Draco was gobsmacked when Astoria explained the concept of the internet to him ("Everything? _Everything?_ Are you _sure_ it's _everything_ Tori? I think you're confused!").

Draco still seemed to be in a daze as they walked out of the store (leaving many confused and slightly scared muggle customers and salesmen).

"How?" Was he all he asked over and over again, constantly rubbing his face and staring out into the sky as if something else he'd never seen before was about to pop out of the horizon, changing everything he felt about it.

All in all, Astoria felt it was definitely worth forking over ten galleons.

* * *

"Astoria, this is preposterous."

She ignored him. She threw off her cloak and kicked off her green shoes. Beneath it, she was wearing muggle capris (which would have made both their fathers do more than cringe) and a t-shirt. The sky was morose and pale, and a chilly wind poured down their shoulders.

Draco had been under the impression they would be having a simple picnic. Why was Astoria so completely against everything simple?

"Astoria!" Draco growled. He stood off to the side in his shiny black robes, attempting to appear tall and dignified. This was difficult when the wind was blowing the sand off the shore of the lake and into his eyes. "I don't understand why you insist upon doing something so pig-headed."

"That's what I think every time I see that hair." She wrinkled her nose. "I swear, if I ever have a son, I won't let him within 10 meters of any hair gel."

Something stirred inside Draco's chest. He imagined a faceless man standing with Astoria at an alter. He felt an odd, indescribable sort of anger against a person he'd never met, but he attempted to shrug it away.

"You'll freeze."

"We'll freeze." Astoria corrected him happily.

"What?" Draco's head snapped up. "Uh… no… I don't think so."

"Well, as usual, you're wrong."

"Why exactly do you want to freeze to death?" Draco was already counting down the seconds until he would apparate away to safety. Astoria grabbed his hand.

"Because it's fun to do the unexpected! To do something crazy! To feel free in your own stupid choices!" She giggled.

"No. It's not." Astoria tilted her head.

"Well, how's decorum working out for you so far?"

"I'm still alive." Draco's tone was clipped.

"Are you though? Are you really?"

"Astoria, what happened to you?" Draco suddenly felt breathless.

"I told you. I realized that listening to everyone around me resulted in nothing but the guilt of a bloody war on my chest. Now, I'm doing and saying the things I want." With that, she dropped his hand, ran over the wooden dock and threw herself into the water, sending up a a splash of cold water.

Draco waited for her to come up. But she didn't.

"Astoria…" Draco called. A minute passed. Draco knew it was a trick, but he was slightly scared that this stubborn woman would hold her breath until she was unconscious, just to coax him into the water.

Draco threw his expensive black cloak unto the sand, along with his wand. He took a deep breath before running and plunging into the water. Before he knew it, he was drenched from a large wave. He rose to the surface, sputtering and spitting out icy water as Astoria guffawed beside him (in a very unrefined manner). Draco, knowing he was inviting something he didn't want, began splashing her repeatedly. This only made Astoria laugh harder.

"Astoria, this isn't fun!" Draco's teeth chattered. Astoria paddled towards him with her arms. Draco flinched when she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her drenched hair was plastered to her shining face.

"That doesn't make it better." Draco mumbled. But even as he said it, his heart fluttered in a way which was worth a hundred swims in the lake. In an uncharacteristic move, he raised his arm and pushed the soaking wet hair out of her face. But Astoria's eyes had flown open, along with her mouth. After a couple seconds, Draco realized which of his arms she was goggling at.

Draco quickly yanked his arm away and tried to pull his wet sleeve down. Astoria gently wrapped her hands around it, stopping him. She trailed her fingers over the grotesque snake… the jeering skull and the sickly green and the horribly final black that seemed to be forever mocking him.

Draco wanted to scream at her not to. Not to be near him, not to talk to him, not to touch him. He wanted to scream that she was touching a monster. And he wasn't talking about the snake.

* * *

"What were you doing with that Malfoy boy last night?" Daphne ambushed her one night after her evening shower.

"Get your mind out of the gutter Daffy." Astoria smirked. "What would father say – he thinks you're a perfect lady." Daphne blinked, before the realization hit her.

"Tori!" Daphne tried to smack her, but Astoria leapt out of the way, giggling. Daphne rolled her eyes.

"Even our darling parents aren't deluded enough to believe I'm anything close to… _a lady_." Daphne wrinkled her nose with disgust, "And I meant at the party. And the dinner before that. You're always off somewhere with that Malfoy boy."

"His name's Draco." She smiled as she rubbed the towel to her damp hair. Daphne narrowed her eyes.

"Draco?" She spat the word out as if it tasted sour. Astoria started twisting her hair in odd ways in front of the mirror. She placed it against her face to make a "moustache".

"People are starting to wonder." Daphne began tapping her foot impatiently.

"Well once they start, it's impossible for them to stop. Hardly anything we can do." Astoria shrugged.

"You know, there isn't a more unpopular family in all of England. The purebloods can't stand them for their betrayal, and everyone else doesn't trust them for what they did in the first place. Either way, you'll never find a more untrustworthy lot." Astoria began humming a Celestina Warbeck song.

"Tori!" Daphne grabbed the towel from the bed, and then proceeded to smack her sister with it. Astoria grabbed a pillow and returned the favor. Soon they were leaping on Astoria's bed, throwing pillows at each other. They slipped and fell down on their backs onto the sheets, giggling like schoolgirls on their way to Hogwarts. Soon their laughter lapsed into a warm silence filled with heavy breaths.

"He'd hurt you." Daphne said suddenly.

"Draco wouldn't dare touch me." Astoria rolled her eyes. "And I'm offended you think I can't protect myself."

"I was talking about your heart." Daphne rolled over unto her stomach and grabbed one of her sister's hands. "He… does he even know what it's like to love someone? He was in my year at Hogwarts. He was horrid – we all admired him, because he was a Malfoy and we were supposed to at the time. But even for a Slytherin, he was malicious and bitter and jealous of anyone that got more attention than him…"

Astoria smiled. "Daffy, I don't think there's anything I can say which could change your mind about him. So you're just going to have to trust me." Daphne examined her younger sister curiously. But behind her uncertainty lurked a flash of pride.

"What happened to the days when I used to protect you?" Astoria rolled unto her own stomach before pushing herself up into a sitting position.

"I grew up." She said simply. "Or I'm trying to."

* * *

"Hello Draco." The word was laced with venomous contempt.

Daphne Greengrass was wearing tight fitting, blood red dress robes with a plunging neckline and a sharp slit that revealed her milky white thigh. While the sight was enough to send all the pureblood boys into lustful and erotic fantasies (and the pureblood mothers into a scandalized rant over the depraved morals of this new generation of women), there was nothing seductive in her manner. It seemed to succeed in its purpose of intimidating Draco and scaring him shitless. Draco nodded curtly, wishing with every fibre of his being that Astoria, or anyone else, would walk through the door into the room which he was sure would soon be stained with blood matching the offender's attire. But he supposed it was an action that most would support.

"Miss Greengrass." Daphne snorted derisively. "Daphne." Draco amended, realizing that seven years of studying in the same year and house at Hogwarts warranted a first name basis relationship.

"I don't like you." There was not a trace of hesitation in Daphne's tone.

"Join the club." Draco growled. This action elicited a rolling of Daphne's eyes, the action being dramatized with the sharp eyeliner highlighting the scathing anger in her eyes.

" _Please."_ Sarcasm dripped from Daphne's tone. "You've been a conceited asshole for the last nine years of your life, and now you expect us all to feel sorry for you – just because you're being treated how you've always treated everyone else?"

"I don't expect anything!"

Draco had rarely had much of a reason to consort with Daphne in Hogwarts days. He had, of course, initiated a countless number of snide attacks upon her, mainly because Pansy didn't like her at all. Probably because she felt threatened by Daphne's superiority in… everything. And Daphne never really bothered pretending that Pansy was anything more than an irritating gossip.

"Now if you want to sit around feeling sorry for your self, that's your business – don't think I actually give a shit." Draco opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off when Daphne's long, elegant finger snapped up into the air. "But when you start intruding upon my sister's life – my sister! I expected a lot from you, Malfoy, but for you to trick one of the most good hearted purebloods you'll ever find – "

"I think you aren't giving your sister enough credit. If you're foolish enough to believe that your sister is weak willed enough to be influenced by a man, then perhaps you're the one who's more in danger of being deluded."

"I don't doubt my sister's capable of standing up for herself – but she's trusting, and she's one of the few people who would actually consider whatever sob story you made up. I don't care what she thinks about you, or what crap you fed her to convince her you've changed! You're selfish – like you've always been – and being a pureblooded bigot has nothing to do with it! You don't care how much it'll hurt Astoria – how much it'll affect her job and happiness to be connected with someone as detestable as you!" Draco could almost see the steam pouring from Daphne's nostrils and ears.

"Well you don't have to worry about that!" Draco's eyes flashed, and a vein in his forehead was beginning to bulge after this attack on his dignity (despite the internal whisperings that agreed with everything she was saying). "Because I have no intentions of pursuing Astoria romantically." Daphne threw her head back at cackled.

"Oh, _of course not_ – I already knew that! I suppose you'll just use her like yesterday's old handkerchief - then toss her away when you're bored! That's what you did with Parkinson, didn't you? You never cared about the hearts you broke – the people you stepped on to get your way!" Daphne started jabbing her extremely pointed finger at her chest. It hurt.

"You're right."

"Duh." Daphne rolled her eyes again.

"I don't deserve her friendship."

"Did you seriously ever think you did?"

"But I can't stop her if she wants to talk to me."

"Well, Draco Malfoy, you better find a way to. Other wise…" Daphne pulled her finger across her throat to mime slitting it.

"Daffy?" Blaise Zabini's beautiful face appeared as he walked into the room, immediately distrustful when he saw Draco. He slinked to her side, sliding an arm around her waist protectively. _As if either of the Greengrass sisters need protecting…_

Daphne smirked before turning and draping her arms seductively around Zabini's neck, pressing her lips slowly and deliberately against his. Draco turned away quickly, disconcerted by the striking resemblance of Daphne's delightfully curvy figure with her sister's. His mind drifted to a hopelessly forbidden picture which involved Astoria's teasing laugh as he pushed her against a wall, pressing himself against her body, sliding his tongue over her soft lips as she moaned…

Daphne suddenly pulled away from a very disconcerted Zabini. Before Draco could register that she had pulled her wand from Melrin knows where, he was hanging upside from the ceiling. Daphne then proceeded to magically charm his black robes into pink with red hearts. When Astoria found him twenty five minutes later, Draco was still cursing Daphne Greengrass in the most undignified way possible.

Daphne and Draco never did warm up to each other.

* * *

"There you are! For Merlin's sake, I've been looking all over for you!"

Draco, in his custom designed robes, was crouched upon the marble floor behind the bookcase. His head was bent away from her. She leaned against the bookcase, blathering on.

"You left me to deal with Theodore Nott's mother all by myself. You know she's pissed about her son having these… weird feelings for me. She keeps blabbing on about how he's God's gift to humanity. If no girl is good enough for him, like she says, why's she so desperate to marry him off to any other girl that's got two legs and at least one arm? As if I would ever – Draco?"

She crouched down next to him and forced his chin up. She was shocked to see tears pouring down his face. They looked so foreign on someone so decidedly against displaying any emotion except disdain.

"He's going to Azkaban." Draco began babbling. "I know we're lucky that Harry managed to save my mother and I and he did all that he could, even when he didn't have to and even Ronald Weasley looked annoyed about it, but that's not a shock, and my father's done enough to deserve it and I know…"

Astoria gathered him up in her arms and let him choke words through his tears. She shooed little Lucille away when the girl came skipping in, not caring when she told every pureblood mother with a son who Astoria Greengrass was "madly in love with and going to marry".

At least she wouldn't have to worry about Theodore Nott anymore.

* * *

"I don't even know why I'm so scared of him."

Astoria just squeezed him tighter. Shadows hanging from the warm light and the smell of old books surrounded them.

"I was just never right. Never good enough." Astoria began running her fingers through his oily hair. "And he was… he was so damn perfect. A hero – _my_ hero. And look at me – I couldn't save him, and I couldn't fight him either."

"Maybe I should be happy he'll be gone." Draco rasped. "I'll finally be free."

Astoria pulled away. "I don't think any of us can ever truly be free." Vulnerability shone in Draco Malfoy's wide grey eyes.

"Tori… I want to be." She nodded her head.

"So do I." Draco buried his face into Astoria's warm neck, feeling guilty over the tantalizing shivers that were trailing down his spine.

* * *

"What kind of man buys a girl tulips? Of all the flowers he could choose from! If he's trying to woo you, he couldn't do a worse job."

Astoria didn't respond.

"They were probably the cheapest. He didn't want to spend the extra money on you. A little pathetic really."

Astoria scratched her neck.

"Not that it matters to me, but it's hard to watch a man make such a fool out of himself." Draco nodded with an air of pretentious superiority that both amused and annoyed Astoria.

"Draco, if you're so jealous about a man giving me flowers, just buy me some yourself." Draco straightened up into a stiff stance of irritation.

"I fail to see what jealousy has to do with this."

Astoria rolled her eyes.

* * *

"What are these?"

"…"

"Draco?"

"You know what they are!" He snapped. _Nice going Malfoy, I'm sure she thinks that's very romantic._ Not that romantic was what he was going for.

"… You walked into a flower shop?" Astoria was struck with a sudden fantasy of a shop filled with fresh sunlight becoming dark and gloomy the moment Draco Malfoy walked in. She could almost hear the crash of thunder amid all the panic-stricken faces. Draco pretended not to hear.

Daphne was not pleased to see five new roses in the vase by Astoria's bedside the next morning (the others tossed away and forgotten).

* * *

It's common knowledge that "beggars are not to be choosers". However, this lesson is often lost upon elegant socialites who have spent the greater part of several decades in the spotlight while being surrounded by only the most expensive and prized possessions. It's therefore natural for them to have difficulty at entertaining the thought of their precious sons associating with women who were anything less than perfect, pureblood ladies.

Astoria had always assumed the most stressful aspect of being Draco Malfoy's friend would be the opinions of people that didn't matter to either of them. However, the past hour of tea with his mother, probably one of the few people Draco still cared for, seemed to be contradicting those previous assumptions.

In hindsight, Astoria realized that Narcissa's obsession with perfection might have been just as detrimental to Draco's life as his father's conditional love. She was beginning to understand why Draco wanted the best of everything – Narcissa had made sure that was what he knew he deserved.

Narcissa coughed softly as she examined Astoria with pursed lips, an action that seemed to emanate a comic elegance that drew a giggle Astoria was having difficulty repressing. Narcissa's back was raised upright with a pride, an action that didn't seem to have much purpose except in appearing exceedingly uncomfortable. Astoria suddenly became self – conscious over the slight slouch in her shoulders. She had grown in a family in which her parents' sole goal was preparing her for a pureblooded female's role of social callings and insulting people in a way which made her look attractively sophisticated. And it was for that reason that Astoria, and even before that Daphne, had rejected it completely.

Narcissa sniffed. Even that simple action seemed to be executed with practised precision.

"Draco tells me you work at St. Mungo's?" Narcissa remarked. Astoria felt a slight passive aggression tone simmering under the politeness. As if the statement was more of a challenge than a remark. But a good deal of the feeling was likely the result of being ridiculed and teased for it by her pureblooded parents and airheaded. She never heard the statement without some distaste.

"Yes I do." Astoria tried to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. She really did.

"Do you plan to continue with it into the future?" Narcissa's sharp gray seemed to bore holes into Astoria, who had already grown tired of the secret conversation they seemed to be having. She had, over the years, grown to appreciate bluntness.

"Yes. I do. I will always do it, and I will always place it above the nonexistent responsibility to find a man who would expect to give up what I care for and love." Anger had unconsciously (sort of) slipped into her words.

Narcissa took another delicate sip of her tea, feeling disappointed, yet feeling a slight sense of admiration. Because don't we all admire as we reject the things we never had? The older woman reverted back to original goal.

"I know recent events have begun a rumor that the Malfoys are willing to settle for a standard below that of the excellency which was once unquestionably required in our possessions and associations."

Astoria truly did not know for sure if she was considered an association or a possession. That worried her.

"But it is essential for you to understand that while we may not be in the same… effortlessly favorable position as before… Malfoys never have, and never will settle."

"With all dues respect," Astoria swallowed, "settling might have been a good way to avoid a lot of the shit you've been dealing with."

Narcissa's eyes bugged out comically; Astoria was interested in how they seemed to be on the verge of popping out.

"I mean," Astoria continued despite knowing that it wouldn't help her win any brownie points with her friend's mother, "If you'd just taken a step off your pedestal and stopped thinking that you deserved so much better than everyone else, you wouldn't have had to be knocked off of it by… _reality."_ Narcissa looked as if she had tasted something sour.

"The Malfoys have always possessed the most desired qualities and gifts of society. We have inherited and enhanced our power and social standing with every generation – it is in all means, our _birthright._ And you are not the first woman to hope that she can use her womanly wiles to seduce and ensnare my son for his money or prestige."

Astoria stared at the woman in disbelief. _What prestige?_

"My son requires very much in a wife. He requires her primary attention, her obedience, her loyalty. He requires a woman who will hold him above all others – including herself. It requires… an essential sacrifice." Narcissa looked morose and almost vexed for a second, but her face became impassive again so quickly that Astoria was sure she'd imagined it.

 _I'm guessing this isn't a two-way street. And this topic is getting a little dangerous._

"Mrs. Malfoy – Draco and I are nothing more than just friends." Astoria asserted. Mrs. Malfoy looked mildly irritated.

"I know what youth of your age mean by _friends_ , and I find it completely unacceptable for my son. He deserves much more as the Malfoy heir."

 _Okay, yuck._ But when she truly considered it, the implications of the words weren't… entirely unappealing. It should have been, but it wasn't. But she felt annoyed about hearing what Draco _deserved._

 _"_ Um… no Mrs. Malfoy, we are honestly just friends. There are no… benefits. I mean there are! Just… not the ones you're thinking of…"

"Miss Greengrass," Astoria was amazed at how Narcissa managed to look displeased without even creasing her forehead. "Do you honestly mean to tell me you have no interest or designs upon my son? In any relation exceeding that of _… friendship_?"

 _Well yes, that's what I just said._ Astoria opened her mouth while running her finger along the rim, but she suddenly couldn't force the words from her mouth. Draco Malfoy, for all his brooding looks and "dangerous" persona that had been romanticized to death in popular culture, was just not the type of man you fell in love with. He could have been the man who took you to expensive restaurants, he could have been the man to buy you fancy presents in exchange for you being his trophy wife. He was definitely a man you married, a man you kissed, a man you slept with. A man you fought with, even cheated on.

He was all those things, but he wasn't the kind of man you loved. But while watching him, laughing with him, talking with him… sometimes Astoria truly felt that he could be. She truly could one day… feel that way.

Maybe she already did.

With what though? What she wanted him to be, what he wanted himself to be, or who he really was? What did that even mean? How could she detach all of those people, as if they weren't tangled in each other? When Astoria spoke again, she felt as if she was listening to a voice that was saying something far away.

"I should… I should probably be getting back home. My mother starts to worry. Thank you so much for the tea Mrs. Malfoy. And don't worry. We'll never be anything… more than what we are now."

 _Probably._

* * *

Lanterns hung above them, charmed to a glow a myriad of mesmerizing colors, throwing a twirling kaleidoscope of patterns upon the ground. Astoria stood below, admiring her handiwork. Draco stood behind her, shuffling awkwardly in his expensive clothes. After being friends for more than a year, Astoria had learned that he did that more often than he didn't.

Only this time, it felt a little more warranted. It was Christmas Eve, and Astoria was spending the evening at a muggle homeless shelter. She spent a lot of her spare time there, to the point where all the muggle homeless children knew her name and were always excited to see what treats and stories she'd bring them whenever she dropped by. She had spent the last few days singlehandedly decorating the shelter and buying presents for anyone younger than she was. It had all culminated to this day, in which she had prepared many stories, food and activities to help bring them some holiday cheer.

For some stupid reason, she thought it would be a good idea to bring Draco. She had convinced herself that seeing underprivileged children who had not already formed biases against him would warm his heart.

She was therefore slightly disappointed when he backed away into tree when one of the six-year-old boys ran out eagerly to give her a present.

The tiny, underfed boy blushed slightly as he gazed up at her warm gray eyes.

"I… I made this for you." He mumbled. Draco was confused as to what it was – it was made out of a couple sticks and berries tied together with old string. "It's a dog." He added.

Astoria kneeled down, displaying no aversion to placing her knees upon the muddy snow. She rested a hand upon the tiny child's shoulder, smiling wider than she had when her father had bought her an extremely expensive bracelet for her birthday.

"Oh Jeremy… this is so beautiful! I adore it – I love it!" Astoria continued on about how she would hang it up in her room, what a great idea using berries as paint was, and what a talented boy he had become. Draco was left to wonder at how Astoria could pretend she liked the gift that much, until he realized, with some surprise, that she wasn't pretending. Her eyes were shining with genuine happiness and she was staring at the boy with… love. It wasn't that Draco was experiencing any negative feelings in that moment; he was just… confused. He'd never considered gaining even a small source of happiness from… useless stuff like sticks.

"Draco loves it too! Don't you Draco?" Draco was snapped out of his reverie. The boy cast a distrustful look upon the aloof Malfoy.

"Er… yes. It's… lovely." The boy cracked a gap toothed, if slightly shy, smile.

"Draco has a present for you too – don't you Draco?" The boy's eyes widened.

Draco just stood there.

"Draco…" Astoria tilted her head, "They're muggles… they don't know you." There was a harder edge to her expectant gaze, probably because she believed he had no excuse to escape the kindness she was determined to wring out of his heart. Draco cleared his throat and pulled out his hefty money pouch from his coat pocket. Despite being filled with almost fifty galleons, a sight which would have managed to shock most average earning wizards and witches, he a retracted only a couple silver sickles. While Astoria's eyes widened with indignation, the little boy's already large eyes snapped open when Draco awkwardly placed them in his palms. He felt slightly guilty when he noticed the cuts lining the tiny child's calluses, even though it had seemed like all that was necessary when he decided to give it.

"Thank you so much!" His high pitched voice sent a fresh round of regret in Draco. The little boy ran inside the shelter, calling for his parents (who were probably as unkempt and dirty as the boy was, Draco couldn't help but think).

Astoria was unimpressed. "That was very generous." She muttered as she brushed the dirt off her knees. She began rummaging through her bag for something as she brushed past Draco coldly. He struggled to defend himself.

"It was enough for him! And besides – I don't know what he's going to do with it!" Astoria threw a withering gaze in his direction.

"Probably make more use of it than you would have done at your age. Considering he often goes to sleep hungry at the same age when you were throwing tantrums for receiving only the second most expensive broom for your birthday." She was angrier than Draco had originally anticipated. He attempted to assume a reasonable tone.

"It isn't much use handing him money – he's going to have to eventually learn how to make his way through the world. We can't create expectations in his mind that can never be fulfilled. He needs a strong understanding of reality." Astoria gasped before whirling around. Her gray eyes were blazing brighter than Draco had ever seen them.

"Did you have this epiphany," Astoria spit, "While you were eating French cuisine, cooked by an abused house elf, upon your _thousand galleon_ dinner plates? All while your mother discussed which silk gown she should buy from the money she inherited from being a _trophy wife_ without a _day's work_ in her life!"

"Don't insult my mother!" Draco growled.

"Are you worried that if you start treating people somewhat more decently than if they're the dirt beneath your shoe that you'll be swarmed by expectations as a 'do-gooder'? Sometimes Draco Malfoy, I wonder why I bother thinking you're any better than what you made yourself out to be. You made the choices you wanted with your life, and it's not like you ever try to make up for them!" Astoria's hair had come out of her ponytail and was casting dark shadows upon her face.

"Well maybe you need to wake up from this dream in which you created a Draco Malfoy that's a prince charming, riding off into the sunset, saving little children and being the Harry Potter to your Ginny Weasley!" Draco was yelling by this time now too.

"I don't want you to be Prince Charming!" Astoria's shrieking was beginning to draw the attention of the people inside the shelter. "I want you to be a decent human being instead of sulking baby, but that's obviously too much to ask!" Astoria suddenly grabbed her bag, fished out a card and threw it at him. It fluttered uselessly as it fell to his feet.

"Merry Christmas." She spat before stomping up the steps and throwing herself through the doors of the shelter.

Draco bent down and picked up the Christmas card. On the front cover was a picture of them together in Muggle London. Astoria had quickly snapped what she called a "selfie" when Draco was staring with amazement at a telephone booth. He had a small smile that seemed foreign on his face, but Astoria was laughing wildly with her arm around his shoulder.

The inside didn't contain a long letter with an tirade of emotions or confessions. It contained just a couple lines, surrounded by a couple more pictures of them together.

 _To my most unexpected but most best friend,_

 _We may be doing our growing up ten years too late, but we're doing it. And while I didn't expect it to be with you, I'm very glad that it is. Merry Christmas Draco!_

 _With love,_

 _Astoria_

 _P.S. Wash that ridiculous gel out of your hair, at least for Christmas!_

So basically, Draco had screwed up.

Again.

* * *

"Draco – Draco, wait!" Astoria bent over for a second to indulge her need to breath heavily, before continuing after him. "Will – will you – _will you just tell me where we're going_?"

Draco turned back with a wild look in his eyes. "It's just a little bit further!" He called out in an uncharacteristically eager tone which made Astoria shake her head with confusion.

Astoria had initially refused when he asked her to meet him on the Malfoy grounds. She had been shocked when he had appeared out on her doorstep, demanded to see her, and practically forced her to apparate there with him.

When they had apparated in front of the gates, he had promptly told her to follow him and had run off. Astoria, despite her better judgement, felt obliged to follow.

Draco suddenly stopped, and Astoria found herself tripping over her own feet to avoid slamming into him.

"Draco, honestly!" Draco had turned around and covered her eyes with his hands. He gently guided her forward.

"I'm sorry Tori, I really am… but I know that just saying it isn't enough for you, and it shouldn't be… it wasn't… I should not have…" Draco couldn't find the words to voice what he wanted to say. He just simply dropped his hands away when they reached the place where he'd set everything up.

Astoria was confused for the first few moments. Before her lay a wooden fence (about two feet high) that was in the shape of a square with four different compartments. Within it were more than twenty baby animals, none of which were magic. They included puppies, kittens, bunnies, and guinea pigs, each occupying a different corner of the pen.

"Why… is there a pen full of animals…?"

"Not just any animals." Draco said proudly, "Muggle animals."

"Yes," She chuckled uncertainly, "I realized. Why…?" Draco pursed his lips as he examined them.

"As late Christmas presents… for the children at the shelter." Astoria stared in shock. Her head swung back and forth between the animals and Draco.

"Where… where did you get them?" She felt slightly light headed.

"I went." He expressed carefully, "To muggle London." Astoria's jaw dropped.

"By… by yourself?" Draco assumed another haughty look.

"I'm not making a habit out of it! Only once. The shop was rather nice actually. Very warm."

Astoria stared.

"Very nice after nearly getting hit by those death machines!"

Astoria continued to stare.

"I don't…" Draco ran his hand through his hair, "I don't know how to do much of this. I never really have. But you do, and I know you're more than capable enough for the both of us… so maybe… if you show me how, I can help make it happen. I have plenty of money, and you seem to have a better idea of what to do with it… I don't… I'm not going to be giving up my custom designed robes and my mother won't settle for selling off any of her expensive, antique vases, or any of her dress robes, but I can set some money aside for whatever it is that you want – "

Astoria stepped forward and silenced him by wrapped her arms around his waist. She rested her head against his chest, ignoring how he'd stiffened before relaxing into her embrace. She decided not to tell him that _food_ might have been a better option, something practical, something that wouldn't be difficult for six-year-old homeless children to manage. But in that moment, she didn't care for anything but his rigid embrace and pale arms; they were horribly uncertain and Astoria felt more at home than she would ever be able to describe. Because _uncertain_ and _confused_ just described _them._

The realization was so casual that it almost seemed like a passing fancy for fajitas. For some weird reason, in between the children's stories and flour fights and secret smiles only she got the chance to see upon his face, she had fallen for Draco Malfoy.

He'd been a bully, and was still an arrogant toerag sometimes, but he could be so much more, and that's why Astoria needed him.

He was the only person Astoria wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

* * *

They stood shivering on the balcony. She furiously rubbed her bare arms while he stared out into the black clouds. The night sky seemed as if it was smudged with ash, shrouding the stars in shadows of smoke. The railing was sparkling with frost, and wisps of light rose from the silken snowflakes. Inside the mansion, superficial laughter overwhelmed the rooms.

"This is the part where a gentleman would hand me his cloak." She muttered, shooting him an amused glance. "Or at least give me one of the expensive gloves he's wearing."

"I'm not a gentleman." Irritation crept into his voice.

"Clearly. A gentleman wouldn't bring his date outside into the cold just to escape his family."

Draco's eyes flew open.

"Astoria…" He whirled around, his façade of elegant calm dropping into a momentary flash of panic. "When I asked you to come out I… I didn't…" He took a hurried breath, swallowing with some difficulty. "I… I only see you as a friend." He forced the words from his throat as if they scorched it. He pursed his lips, tearing his eyes away from hers.

"Oh. Well I don't." Astoria shrugged casually, biting her lip to prevent her teeth from clattering against each other. Draco brought his hand up to his face and rubbed his forehead, which was creased with lines of stress and uncertainty. Astoria stepped forward, tilting her head teasingly in a way that was entirely hers. Draco's breath became lodged in his throat. Her long eyelashes caught the light between them, and her eyes were shimmering rainbows sliding through rainclouds. He found himself longing for the warm embrace of her glowing arms, the soft sweetness of her tantalizing lips. Her cinnamon aroma surrounded him. She raised her hand and softly trailed her fingers down his cheek, which he was certain was much too dry. She pulled herself up so her mouth was tickling his ear, her breath making him tremble.

"And I think…" Astoria's voice danced through his ears, shivering down to his heart, which he was sure was pounding loud enough for her to hear. "That neither do you…"

Gusts of wind swirled around them, but when his cracked lips touched hers, he felt as if he was holding all the warmth in the world.

* * *

Her father had paced for so long that Astoria was worried the carpet would start coming loose.

"Everyone will break all connections with you." He spat.

"I don't care." Astoria's back was raised upright with pride and dignity. She had nothing to be ashamed of.

"You won't have any friends."

"Those people were never my friends." He spun around.

"Oh really?" His voice oozed with sarcasm. "And who were your friends? Harry Potter I suppose? Were you planning on associating with them? Considering they get along so well with the man you _want_ to marry?"

"The man I _will_ marry."

"You're not choosing a side – you're abandoning everything to be an outcast! Think about what you'd be doing to your children! I should have put a stop to this the moment I found out you were gallivanting around with that disgrace!"

"If I told you five years ago that I wanted to marry Draco Malfoy, and that he wanted to marry me, you would have been forcing me to drop out of Hogwarts to make that happen."

"It was a different world then." He hissed. "What you're doing right now is committing suicide."

"But that's not what you're worried about. You're worried about the family's reputation, not me."

"I care about both!" He hollered. "I can't choose one because I'm responsible for both!"

"Father, I am going to marry Draco Malfoy. And I'm asking for your blessing, not your permission."

Her father grabbed her shoulders and yanked her towards him. She felt cold just looking into his ice blue eyes. She remembered being a child sitting on his lap, admiring him, but at the same time knowing nothing could ever warm the cold just looking at her father brought to her heart.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" He hissed. "Why are you damning yourself to this life?"

"I'm living my life father. I love you, and I hope you can accept this so we can develop our relationship in a direction which is positive for both of us."

"I will never forgive you if you do this."

"But I forgive you for thinking that. And for everything you've said." He turned away abruptly, and when he spoke again his words were indifferent and cool.

"I want you out of this house in the next hour." Astoria nodded her head in elegant acceptance.

"As you wish father."

* * *

Daphne's eyes were puffy and her face was stained with tears. She sat on Astoria's bed, weeping into her embroidered handkerchief.

"Stop being so dramatic Daffy!" Astoria said while packing her things into a chest. "I'm getting married, not moving to another country." Astoria picked up an ornate, black brush. "Here, you keep it. We've been fighting over the stupid thing since we were kids, and frankly, I'm done with it."

"Tori, is he worth it?"

"Worth what?

"Worth what you're giving up?"

Astoria thought for a minute. "Yes. Yes, he is. But I don't consider it giving something up. I consider it choosing the life I want. The stuff that matters in the life I have right now – the people that really matter, the people that truly care for me – are the ones that will stay with me in it. Like you. I hope." Astoria winked, ignoring the tears that were building in her eyes despite her words. Daphne groaned.

"Then I hope that prat knows how lucky he is, because he just won the lottery." They giggled together and hugged. And they sat there for some time, finding solace in the warmth of each other's arms.

"So when's the wedding?" Daphne pulled away, wiping her eyes and picking up the brush.

Astoria fell back unto the bed and stared up at the white ceiling.

"Well I still have to ask him to marry me, but after that – "

The brush slipped from Daphne's hand, clattering upon the hard wood floor. Her eyes blazed with shock and anger.

"You just gave up everything for a man who might reject you?!" she shrieked, "For a man who might not even want you?!"

"Oh," Astoria rolled her eyes. "I've seen how he looks at me. He _definitely_ wants me."

"Astoria!" Daphne's lips seemed to be flopping over her mouth. "What game are you playing with your life?"

Astoria's eyes hardened. "The game where I'm done letting anyone tell me what I'm supposed to do with it. So far, all it's done is lead us into pointless war where to many innocent people were slaughtered for no reason. I have enough guilt to bear on my back for the rest of my life, and I don't plan on taking on any more. I love him and he loves me. And I'm going to fight for the rest of my life to make it work! I'll be sending around the invitations in a couple days. I hope you can convince mother to come."

Daphne stared.

"Or we could elope…" Astoria started scratching her chin in contemplation.

* * *

Draco was pacing for a full hour before she arrived. She sauntered up to him, in one of the grounds of Malfoy Manor, where he had asked to meet her.

"Astoria, that kiss was a mistake." Draco blurted out.

"Relax Draco, you weren't that bad." Astoria smirked, crossing her arms. "Though you could do with a little bit more practise." She crossed her two fingers while she said it.

"I'm serious." He hissed while he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Draco, I don't remember a time when you weren't."

"One of the million things that proves that you don't remember what I was like at Hogwarts."

"Oh…" Astoria snorted sardonically, "I remember, don't worry. And it definitely wasn't as pretty as you thought it was."

"Astoria, I tried to kill Dumbledore." He had told Astoria the story before.

"You were seventeen. And your family – the people you loved – were being threatened with death."

"I tried to kill him." Draco was lost in his own memories.

"You can't punish yourself forever Draco!" Astoria growled in frustration. Draco spun around, and for once, Astoria was caught off guard.

"Are you listening to me?" Draco clenched his fists, shaking them as if he desperately needed something to punch. "I TRIED TO KILL SOMEONE!"

"But you didn't."

"WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES THAT MAKE?"

"You didn't because you couldn't!"

"YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!"

"Yes I do! And you know what else I know?" Astoria stepped forward. "You're not weak – you're just lazy! You could be better than you are, and you know you can, you just aren't willing to put in the effort! You just justify everything by saying you're weak! So you won't have to work! And right now, you know we can be together, you just don't want to try hard enough to make it happen!"

"Astoria." Draco clenched his teeth. "Stop being stubborn."

"No." Astoria jutted her chin out stubbornly. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist. He tried to step away, but her grip was too strong.

"I love you because I think you're brave, even if the world doesn't. I think you _became better,_ which to me is so much braver than being good in the first place. Draco you're scared, but so am I, but you're the only person who I can grow _with._ The only person who understands enough of how hard it is. And we can do it _together_. Now tell me you don't love me."

"I don't love you." Draco's eyes were fixed decidedly away.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me."

Draco couldn't do it.

"Love isn't everything." He murmured.

"No, it isn't. But we've had too little of it in our lives to give it up now, in the face of obstacles we can overcome." Astoria grabbed his hands and pressed them to her heart.

"What if I ruin your life?" He whispered.

"You're just going to have to hope that you won't." Draco buried his face into her hair, never wanting to let her go, but still scared that it would be best for her if he did.

"Astoria?"

"Yes?"

"We can't have children."

"If that's what you want Draco."

* * *

 _Draco, I'm pregnant._

 _Draco, I'm pregnant._

 _Draco, I'm pregnant._

 _Draco, I'm pregnant._

 _Draco, I'm pregnant._

"Draco?" Astoria grey eyes shined with happiness beneath her questions. She reached for his hands but he shoved them away.

He backed away from her, stumbling over his own feet. "No no no no no this was a mistake this was a mistake oh Merlin this was a mistake." He babbled incoherently, wringing his hands together. He raked them through his hair, yanking the blond strands as hard as he could. Astoria leapt forward and grabbed his arms.

"Draco… Draco, it's fine, don't worry…"

"Don't worry?" His voice had jumped up a couple octaves. "I'm going to ruin a child's life, and you're saying _don't worry_!"

"Draco, we're in this together!"

"Everyone's going to hate them! Then they'll hate me! Then – _I can't raise a child Astoria!_ You promised we wouldn't have children – _you promised_!"

"Well it happened! Draco… Draco listen to me! We'll raise this child together!"

"We can't! I can't!"

"Draco – "

"I told you not to marry me, _I told you_! Now look what happened – we've ruined all of our lives!"

"Draco, I am sick and tired of you hiding behind that line!" Astoria's face was burning with anger. Her hair was rising around her in a way that sent shivers down Draco's spine. "Because every time something happens, you think you can escape the consequences by blaming me for this marriage. You keep trying to escape standing up for yourself with the justification that you're weak. Well guess what? IT'S DONE. You said the vows, and it's time to god damn live up to them!" Draco spun away from her, trembling.

"I have to go... I have to go…"

"Wait!" Astoria grew pale. "Where are you going?" Panic filled her voice. "Draco, please, let's just talk, you can't solve anything by running – "

Draco had already apparated away. Astoria felt herself fall unto the bed, watching her face crumble in one of the many elegant mirrors of Malfoy Manor.

* * *

Scorpius had been cooped up in his room all afternoon. Draco always felt uneasy when his son was out of his sight, but that came no where near the fear he felt when Scorpius was with him. He constantly felt paralyzed at the thought of saying something, certain that the one line would be enough to make Scorpius hate him forever. Or even worse – make Scorpius fear him for the rest of his life. Astoria had constantly told him when she was pregnant that everything would make sense when he held his newborn son in his arms. That the pieces of the universe would some how come together at that moment, providing him all the knowledge he needed to know to raise his son. She even let him name Scorpius, in the hope it would help him feel more at ease when their son was born (something she'd regretted after she saw the birth certificate).

But when Draco held Scorpius for the first time, while he felt a love more powerful than anything he'd ever experienced before, he was overwhelmed by a crippling fear that he knew would follow him for the rest of his days.

It was even worse when Astoria was gone, like at this moment. Draco knew she was the bridge connecting them all together. She was the translator between father and son, communicating to each other the emotions the other couldn't vocalize.

Alone time between Scorpius and Draco usually involved stumbling attempts at conversations and frequent silences spent glancing at the clock (or at the door in the hope that Astoria would walk through).

While Astoria was in Diagon alley, Draco was looking over old documents in his study.

There was a soft, eager knock on the door. Draco smiled internally at the thought of his seven year old son, bouncing on his heels, his silky hair that Astoria refused to cut gliding over his forehead.

"Come in." The door flew open, and Scorpius came dashing to his father with uncharacteristic eagerness.

"Look daddy look daddy look daddy!" Draco's chuckle came to an abrupt halt when his son thrust his left arm to his face. Upon it, colored with black marker, was a fanged snake sliding from the mouth of an oddly shaped skull. Regardless of the childish strokes, it matched the grotesque mark forever branded on Draco's left arm. The mark that haunted Draco's dreams every night. The mark he would have given almost anything to be rid of.

For the first, and only time in his entire life, Draco Malfoy slapped his son. Scorpius stumbled back, feeling more shock than pain over the absolutely unexpected outcome.

"How dare you!" Draco shouted, tears clouding his own vision with what he thought was rage. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!"

"I… I don't…" Tears began pouring down Scorpius's cheeks. Draco grabbed his son's arm and roughly yanked him closer. Scorpius gasped at the painful grip of his father's hand.

"That mark is evil! Do you here me? EVIL! Do you want to be evil? DO YOU?"

Scorpius struggled to shake his head as he sobbed. Draco grabbed Scorpius's chin and forced it up.

"If you ever draw that mark anywhere, I will DISOWN you! DO YOU UNDERTSAND?"

"Yes…" Scorpius sniffed. He didn't know what it meant to disown somebody, but he could guess that it would be much more painful than this.

"Yes what?" Draco snapped.

"Yes…" Scorpius coughed, "Yes…father."

"Good. Now wash that disgusting thing off your arm." Draco dropped his voice into a terrifying hiss that Scorpius would never forget. "And I never want to see it on you again."

* * *

The door to Scorpius's room creaked open. Scorpius was splayed across his bed with his blonde head buried in his pillow.

"I just wanted to be like him." Scorpius choked between repressed sobs. Astoria sighed before laying herself on the bed. She rested her head on the same pillow, wrapping one protective arm around her son. She cradled him close to her chest, every tear like a stab of a knife to her gut.

"That's the problem Scorpius."

She knew Draco was crying in the exact same way across the hall.

* * *

 _Present Day:_

Scorpius could feel the heat radiating from his own face. He wanted to burrow inside himself, or better yet, disappear. Or go back in time and stop his parents from getting married so he never would have been born.

He could hear people snickering and giggling around him. Others, including teachers like Professor Longbottom, were gazing down at him with pity. Either way, all eyes of the Great Hall were on him. The buzzing rose into hollers and shouts, both in his favour and against him. But no one seemed to be able to move themselves from their seats.

"Well?" Professor Madgewick screeched. Her lips were pulled back into a repulsive sneer and her eyes seemed to be dripping with hatred. "Where did you take it, you little thief? You pathetic liar?" Her rough hands were fixed upon the hips of her shimmering, brass colored robes.

Scorpius felt like he was swallowing down embarrassment the size of a snitch. Scorpius was absolutely sure Madgewick had waited until Rose had left to send a letter at the owlery before attacking him in front of everybody.

"I didn't take it." He repeated firmly, for the tenth time. He crossed his arms, pretending in his mind that looked strong. He felt unstable on his quivering legs. Madgewick threw her head back and gave a spine-tingling, humorless laugh.

"You expect me to believe that?" Foam seemed to be gathering on the corners of her lips. "I saw you take it." Al, his face twisted with distress, threw himself up beside Scorpius.

"He said he didn't take it!" Al hollered.

"Are you calling me a liar you stupid boy?" She shrieked. "I watched that Malfoy boy pick up my necklace – a dear gift from my sister – "

"There are more of you?" Fred muttered from across the table.

" – it was sitting on my desk, and slide it into his bag!"

"Then put me under Veritaserum." Scorpius said. He didn't trust himself to say it very loudly, because he could already feel the tears teetering on the edge of his eyes. Crying would be the only thing that could make this more humiliating.

"You've probably learned enough dark magic to resist its effects! And you know it's against the rules – you're trying to tempt me into getting myself fired, aren't you?" The large mole on Madgewick's double chin danced as she nodded her head jubilantly.

"Scorpius wouldn't have to do anything. You're doing a perfect job of it by just being yourself." James called out. For once, Madgewick ignored him. The woman was drunk on humiliating the boy she felt a personal vendetta against.

"For goodness sake, Scorpius didn't take it!" Al yelled, his voice trembling with anger. "You're just a pathetic old hag who wants to make everyone miserable."

"Al, don't bother." Scorpius snapped under his breath.

"Knowing your taste," Sara snorted, loud enough for everyone to hear, "The caretaker probably mistook it for trash and threw it away." Half the hall whirled around in their seats, shocked at the outburst.

"What was that?" Madgewick hissed.

Professor Stonebrooke suddenly materialized next to them. She grabbed the woman's shaking arm.

"Angela, you've created a scene." Her words were soft, but razor sharp. "And have made some very serious accusations."

"He stole my necklace!" She howled. "The scene is the least of what he deserves!"

"What would I even do with a necklace!" Scorpius threw his arms in the air with frustration.

"Enough! Angela, you had no right to parade a private matter which hasn't even been proven in front of everyone." Stonebrooke snapped.

"Check his bag then." Madgewick growled. "And then his trunk. Then strip search him. Who knows where that sick little bugger would stick my beloved – " The laughter skyrocketed around him. Scorpius's entire body was blazing with anger and shame.

"Angela!" Stonebrooke snapped before sighing. "No use taking this to my office. Please hand me your bag Mr. Malfoy. I want to be done with this quickly, if not quietly."

"This is stupid!" Al yelled while Scorpius handed over his bag. "You know he didn't take it!"

"What happens to Madgewick when she's wrong?" James yelled. He was silenced by Stonebrooke's glare.

" _Professor_ Madgewick will apologize. And Scorpius will be compensated for this breach of his privacy."

Professor Stonebrooke emptied his entire bag with her wand. Everyone gazed eagerly at the objects, which were mostly horribly mundane in comparison to their expectations. And at the bottom, lay a silver necklace with large turquoise stones. Scorpius's jaw dropped.

"There! That's my necklace! He took it! I want him expelled!" Madgewick was grinning maniacally.

"I didn't take it!" Scorpius yelled. "It might have fallen in, but – "

"Fallen in to the very bottom under all your things?" Madgewick was ecstatic.

"Then someone slipped it in! I was framed – you know enough people would be willing to do that! Someone – I DIDN'T TAKE IT!" Professor Stonebrooke seemed exhausted.

"My office Malfoy."

"I'm going with him!" Al shouted angrily.

"No you're not. We have to discuss this alone with Mr. Malfoy." At that very moment, Rose came sprinting into the Great Hall with her face so red it looked like it was going to explode, panting hard. She was dragging with her a very pale Aiden Corner.

"Professor…" Rose wheezed. "Aiden… Aiden was… at the Owlery… bragging about…about…framing Scorpius with his friends…"

Aiden didn't even bother denying it.

* * *

"It doesn't matter if Aiden confessed or that Scorpius didn't get in trouble." Al was fuming. Scorpius had gone to bed straight after the incident, and no one could persuade him to leave it. "Madgewick lied and humiliated Scorpius in front of the entire school."

Rose sat cross legged on the couch with her arms crossed. She continued to stare with fury into empty air. "I'm imagining a million different scenarios in my head right now, half of which end with Madgewick losing her head.

"And that's the kind of thinking we need right now." James marched with a determined stride towards them with Adler (who had very quickly become Gryffindor's resident cat) in his arms. He planted himself firmly next to Rose. Fred, Dominique, and Roxanne followed suit, sitting on either side of Al on the ground. "That's the thinking which is perfect for us to exact our revenge."

"Dominique?" Al was surprised.

"That woman messed with my new seeker. And when someone messes with one person on the team, she messes with the ENTIRE TEAM!" Everyone around her jumped. "Everyone else is ready to help too." She crossed her muscular arms and glared at the fourth years staring at her from across the common room. "I think this is an excellent way to build cooperation and loyalty that will help us win the cup. And Louis wants to help too."

"I painted my nails red. _Blood red_." Roxanne smirked while waving her dark fingers in the air. "Perfect for the occasion."

"It's time to make Madgewick regret the day she ever tried to hurt Scorpius." James pulled out a piece of parchment. "Operation… Pranking Madgewick… or… wait! Operation Revenge for Scorpius." He furiously scribbled everyone's name down.

"Excellent…" Rose started giggling deliriously.

"Should we get Scorpius?" Fred asked.

"No!" Al jumped. "It'll be a surprise." The Fat Lady's painting swung open, and Sara came running in, carrying her large bag. A smile split across her face when she saw their group discussing in hushed, energetic whispers

"Are you going to pull a prank on Madgewick?" Sara asked breathlessly, leaning over the arm of the couch to look at the parchment. James snapped it away out of her sight.

"None of your business. Why don't you go bother someone el – "

"I want to help." Sara's eyes gleamed with determination. "I want to help get revenge on Madgewick for Scorpius, and all the other innocent people she's bullied."

"We don't need any help." James rolled his eyes. "Especially not yours."

"Yes you do." Sara bristled. "You need someone with a brain to make up for your stupidity."

"Please Miss Goodie Two Shoes, you wouldn't be able to handle it. Have you ever even pulled a prank?"

"No, but if you can manage to do it somewhat decently, it'll be a walk in the park for me." James scowled.

" _I_ want Sara's help." Rose grinned. Al nodded enthusiastically.

"Sara's pretty valuable to us right now." Fred admitted. Roxanne winked at her friend.

"Who's in charge of this operation again?" James demanded.

"Not you." Said Rose, Al, Fred, Roxanne, and Dominique in unison.

"Fine." James grumbled, adding Sara's name to the "planning document". Sara watched, unimpressed.

"You titled the document "Pranking Madgewick"? And you put our names on it? God, no wonder you always get caught…"

"I was going to burn it." James clenched his teeth.

"And what if someone had seen it before that?"

"Well that would have been part of the fun!"

"Getting detention – "

"Not the point!" Rose rubbed her hands together eagerly. Her face had a terrifying glow. "We're going to crush Madgewick! That old bat won't know what hit her…"

* * *

"Oh look…" Professor Lindsey paused calmly, "It seems like students are out of bed after curfew."

Professor Longbottom raised his eyebrows. "They seem to be headed towards Professor Madgewick's classroom." His voice was airy and pleasant, as if he was remarking on the weather.

"We should stop them." Professor Lindsey remarked without moving. "They could be pulling a prank."

"And that would be horrible, wouldn't it?"

They exchanged a glance before bursting out into laughter. They continued forward in the opposite direction of the students.

* * *

 **I am so so sorry! I know I've practically disappeared for the last two months. I also know none of you want to hear long stories of my life, so I'm just going to apologize and hope this long chapter was worth the wait. It was really heavy on Astoria and Draco, which I hope you liked. I think they are very complex characters, and while I don't like when people romanticize Draco to be better than he is, I hope I was able to capture some of his desires to be a better person. I think Astoria and Draco have a difficult, but loving relationship, and I forsee problems that have sprung up throughout their marriage. Tell me what you think about how I've interpreted them.**

 **Thank you so much for all the support everyone's given me while I've been gone. I wanted to thank stickleralways for giving me advice on balancing dialogue with other descriptions of emotion. I'm trying to work on that right now in my writing.**

 **I got requests from RoxanneRay, SkierSwimmer, and creampuffs-and-fluff to see more of Professor Longbottom, Professor Lindsey, and Victoire and Teddy respectively. I promise you'll see more of them in the next chapter (or sometime in the next few chapters if I can't fit them in). You'll also see a Quidditch game sometime soon.**

 **I got a flame from Vipera411, but considering they wished for dementors to have mayonnaise on my soul (really don't know how to respond to that), I'm just going to ignore it.**

 **Thank you so much to everyone else who reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. Your support is so heartwarming. i wanted to give a special thanks to Manny654, who always leaves such beautiful, long reviews that leave me glowing for days, and baronnis, who has reviewed on almost every chapter since I began this story! But all of you guys mean everything to me, and I'll do a special thanks for everyone next chapter!**

 **I want to do a special chapter if I hit 100 reviews, which includes suggestions from all of you guys (more than just characters, but actual story ideas/prompts). If you can help me hit 100 reviews, with prompts and things you want to see, I'll try my best to include most of them - though to be honest, I'll include your suggestions even if I don't hit 100 :) Not that I'm running out of ideas - but i want to do something to show my thanks!** **Reviews in general make me happy! Not so great stuff has been going on in my life at this time, so your support for my story would mean a lot.**

 **Once again, I hope you liked the chapter and that it was worth the wait!**

* * *

 **PS UPDATED VERSION - the Draco/Astoria backstory from the beginning is enhanced, rewritten, and doubled in size. It is the same exploration I recently published as a one shot, with many many more scenes than from before - since it's from the same "universe", i thought it best to add it here as well. I hope it's enough to satisfy you until I finish the 14th chapter (which i you have been waiting for, for the last couple months. I'm so sorry for all my delays and excuses!**


	15. Chapter 16 (Previously an AN)

**Disclaimer: I am not Jk Rowling. Obviously.**

* * *

"Evening Harry!" Hannah called out warmly, raising her voice to be heard above the raucous laughter filling the brightly lit pub. "Ron, Hermione!" She was currently weaving her way through the spaces between the few empty tables with a deft grace that only being the Landlady of the Leaky Cauldron for more than a decade could bring to a woman. She rubbed them vigorously with a wet cloth as the broom she had charmed followed behind her, occasionally smacking against a couple particularly drunk customers as it swept dust into a pan trailing after it.

"Evening Hannah!" Harry ran a hand through his hair, letting it stick up comically from the back. "Is Neville back from school yet?" Hannah tossed her long golden hair back as she wiped some sweat off her brow with the back of her hand and laughed.

"No not yet! But I have no doubt he's being held up by some fight or prank or some other outrageous show of bravado from some Weasley or Potter spawn that he now has to discipline."

"Neither do I, unfortunately." An old weariness flooded his face as he began unbuttoning his muggle coat. "But to be honest, I'd rather pretend my children, nephews and nieces are all resting in bed right now, having been nothing but good, quiet little angels. I could do with a little less disciplining and excitement in my life right now."

"Rough day?" She smiled sympathetically as she wiped her hands against her apron. She leaned over and lightly pushed a slumping, half conscious man back into the seat he was about to slip out of.

"Not as bad as it could've been." Harry admitted.

"Speak for yourself." Ron grumbled, shoving his way past his friend and throwing his gloves on the nearest table. He began to angrily to undo the scarf around his neck, only serving to tangle it further. "Only two months back in the Auror corps and I'm starting to remember all the reasons I _left it in the first place."_ His rough tone caught the attention of some surrounding onlookers. Hermione slid into the seat beside him, leaning over and untying his scarf carefully, but still flashing him a sharp look as she did so.

"Careful Ron." Hermione's voice dropped into a disapproving whisper. "You're the _reinstated deputy_. If you walk around bad-mouthing the institution, no one else's going to have any faith left in it." Ron cast her a dark look before muttering under his breath.

Harry sighed, dropping into the seat across from them, running his hands through his hair again before leaving it to rest upon his cheek. He slumped forward, closing his eyes for a few short moments. Sleep would be able to easily overtake him if he let it, but like usual he grudgingly let his responsibility drag him back up into consciousness.

"No Ginny?" Hannah remarked when she returned with her notepad and pen.

"No, she's been up late for the past week finishing an article for the Prophet." The thought depressed Harry; he could have used his wife's sassy remarks and reassuring touches beneath the table on a day like this. It didn't help that his second in command was currently making a list of all the reasons his department was a screwed up gong show.

"And then I tell the git that I don't _care_ what the paperwork says, that I just need him to unarrest the guy and the prat keeps mumbling about protocol and and all the other fu-

"Ron!"

"What? It's after nine in a _pub_ for Merlin's sake, it's not like there are going to be any _children_ here _drinking!"_

" _Ron_." She hissed, "Being in a position of responsibility means maintaining a calm façade and an attitude in which – "

"Well I didn't say it to his _face._ Does _reinstated deputy_ mean I'm not allowed to _think it_ if I meet someone whose face I can't tell apart from his arse, because if that's the case, I think I finally found a reason to get out of dinner with Percy – "

"Uh… I'll get three brandies… and a couple firewhiskey shots." Hannah interjected feebly before hurrying off to another table. Ron and Hermione paid her no heed.

"People are looking to you for your _leadership,_ and they can tell if you feel frustrated or irritated, and that doesn't –

"Drop it Hermione." Harry sighed, "Ron's doing perfectly fine as deputy. He's managing everything." Ron glared at him.

"Oh, so I suppose wanting to bang my head against the wall at the end of every day is your definition of _fine_?" Harry looked affronted.

"I was siding with you!" He threw his hands in the air. Ron sneered.

"Funny, 'cause you seemed to forget how to do that when that stupid Williams kid started mouthing off at me in the middle of – "

"Yeah, 'cause he was a _stupid kid_ , and I wasn't about to waste our valuable time arguing with him about something equally stupid! All he wanted was to feel he was doing something valuable, so I gave him a small task – "

"He's too dumb to do anything right! We can't give him paperwork without him messing it up, much less a mission!"

"You didn't have to tell him that." Harry snorted.

"I didn't! I was fair! I told him to do what he'd been assigned, and that once he finished that we'd review his capabilities! But then you opposed me in front of _everyone,_ and they all thought it was epically _hilarious_ that _Harry Potter_ couldn't trust his deputy to make the most basic of decisions – "

"It wasn't about you Ron, and everyone knew it!" Harry sounded exasperated. "I just gave him an honorary position doing practically nothing so he'd shut up and we could finally move on to more important -

"Well that's stupid." Ron said stubbornly. "He was walking around afterward thinking he was gonna be the next Head of the department – "

"Then let him! At least he was out of hair while we made some real, important decisions!"

"Made decisions." Ron snorted. "Sure. Why not? If you can count arguing over the most pathetic, trivial things as _making decisions_."

"You know what Ron?" Harry snapped, "You and your non-existent poker face and lack of tact–" Ron interrupted him with a bark of laughter. They were starting to draw more attention from the tables around them, including the drunks who were struggling to stay awake. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and sighed as the spectacle continued to unfold.

"Yeah, and your obsession with listening to even the biggest idiots – "

Hermione pressed her fingers to her temples. " _Stop_!" Harry and Ron froze. "Just _stop_ both of you!" Her voice was laced with stinging anger. "We have too much to deal with without _fighting with each other_." Both of them sullenly stared at the table until Hannah returned, placing the large glasses gingerly upon the table.

"If you need anything else," She smiled a little tentatively, "Give me a shout."

They sipped silently for some time, until Ron, after spending several minutes restraining himself, couldn't hold it in anymore more.

"Merlin's pants, it makes no sense! People are actually paying attention to what these lunatics are saying!" He dug into his pocket and pulled out the pamphlets, throwing them on the table with disgust.

The brightly colored propaganda titles were a mix between ones that sounded as if they had been written by Rita Skeeter and a history textbook. They included _"Top Ten Reasons Why the Ministry is Becoming Anti – Wizard", "The Dark Marks of Harry Potter – Secrets From the Heart of the Weasley Takeover", "Potter and the Weasels – The Muggle Lovers Who Sold Away Their People"_ and the simple but effective _"Heroes and Leaders, or Tyrants and Traitors?"_

"The Weasley Takeover." Ron shook his head, "It sounds like a joke Malfoy would've made in Hogwarts about gingers reproducing. This is all absolutely barmy! They couldn't even come up with a second H word to match the Heroes part!"

"Yes Ron." Harry's voice had become stiff and irritated. "I'm the one that read it to you."

"And you know who's listening to them? They've got all these children running after them, spitting out words about 'wizard dominance' and 'losing their world to the muggles. _Children!_ How is that even possible? I mean old Slytherins I get, but it's not just them is it?"

"It's murder to regulate." Harry's voice dropped so they wouldn't overheard by the other tables, "There is no coherent movement. We have some people writing pamphlets, some people making speeches, but most of the attacks on muggles and muggle borns are a bunch of lone wolves, going around committing hate crimes. How are we supposed to prevent what's barely been planned in advance? There's no coordinated effort!"

"They have a sign." Ron pointed out. "Which they leave on the wrists of their victims."

"But it isn't like the death eaters, where only specific chosen ones had the sign. Anyone can do anything, and use the new symbols circulating around. It makes the movement _look_ more organized than it is."

"I still don't understand how all these children are involved!" Ron erupted.

"Ron… they're feeling nostalgic." Hermione spoke up calmly, up until know having been deep in thought.

"Nostalgic?" Harry blinked, "For what? They weren't even born yet when the last war was happening."

"Nostalgic for the ideas." Hermione said as if it explained everything.

"Care to explain what the hell that means?" Ron grumbled.

"The truth is…" Hermione lifted her head and gazed out the window, "The public is worried. They feel that… they're not getting the full story."

"What does that even mean?"

"You're the head of the Auror department. Ron is now second in command, and has obviously had a heavy influence on the department over the years. I'm the Head of Magical Law, and Kingsley, who has always been strongly affiliated with us – "

"The best Minister of Magic we've seen in decades." Harry interjected heatedly.

" _Yes_ Harry," Hermione stressed, "But the point is they feel the power is unbalanced… most of the power lies in the hands of a specific group of people."

"We earned it!" Ron narrowed his eyes, "It's been us that've been slaving away on our asses for decades to protect them."

"Yes, and for the longest time they didn't care, but now with all these revived movements and attacks… the easiest way for everyone to deal with their fear and discomfort is to blame the authorities. The point of those pamphlets was to create _divide._ Now _everyone's_ thinking something different – some think that we aren't being strong enough, or maybe that none of this would be happening if we hadn't been so obsessed with muggle equality, and that we really have been hiding any information that didn't line up with our goals. They're starting to distrust us. And over generations, the pain of the past, that was the result of what we once promised would 'never happen again' is… being forgotten."

"Forgotten?" Harry gave a cold, humorless laugh, "Tell that to Amos Diggery and his wife. Or Dennis Creevy, or – "

"I never I said I'd forgotten!" Hermione snapped. "But the younger generation entering the workforce has absolutely _no idea_ what it's like to lose someone like that. They have no idea what war _means_. For some, this whole idea of taking back their world and being told that they're too powerful to be sidelined like this – it's appealing. As long as humanity exists, it's going to find a way to create hierarchies. And for the people who haven't seen the bloodshed first hand is going to find blood purity a convenient way to put themselves on the top. Death eaters were not all purebloods – they don't have to be. And it's not like it's uncommon among young people to feel this sort of desire." Hermione glanced to the side before leaning closer and dropping her voice even lower amid the noise. "You know even Dumbledore believed in all this too, when he was the same age."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, before closing it with pursed lips. Hermione continued urgently. "And the older generation? They're terrified Harry. _Terrified_. They never want to go through that again, and so when they see us trying to calm everything down, they get irritated. They want to see action, and while they don't believe in hating muggles, they're beginning to want the people in control who'll do big things that make them feel safe. The idea that we're…"

"We're spending all our stupid time searching and hunting and gathering evidence to make sure we aren't throwing the _wrong_ people in jail – " Ron growled.

"As long as I am Head of the Auror Department," Harry began, "I will never sacrifice what is right for what looks right! We won't start going around throwing innocent in Azkaban to satisfy fears."

"There's also that…" Hermione began, but stopped suddenly.

"What?" Harry demanded.

"We never did tell anyone about that last year." Hermione mentioned in a tiny voice. "When we left school to…" She trailed off.

"Well of course not!" Harry glared at her fiercely, "You can't honestly think we should've?"

"No Harry, of course not, but the thing is – "

"If we had told them everything, we would've had ten miniature Voldemort's with ten horucruxes running around by now!"

"Yes but – "

"We could never – "

"Don't go off on her!" Ron snarled. Hermione placed her hand on his arm.

"People have always been speculating. You know how cynical people are – they think that maybe we were going around learning dark magic, or worse. That we used similar power strategies as Voldemort did, because only things as equally horrid would be enough to defeat him. Of course, a large amount of people _do_ believe in us, but the point is that the propaganda has gotten people thinking in new directions. It's _created divide._ "

"Well," Harry grumbled, "We could just throw everyone with one of those pamphlets in jail."

"Harry!" Hermione threw her hands up in exasperation. "We can't do that!"

"Why not?" Ron snapped, examining his drink sullenly. "Make some arrests. Cut some of their tongues off – just for luck."

"If we start arresting people for listening to things, we're only making them martyrs! How can we be trusted to protect the people if we're infringing upon they're rights of association and speech! It makes us the enemy!" Ron stared at her incredulously.

" _Enemy! Free speech!_ Well they're screaming all over the place about killing people – what are we supposed to do, wait until they actually do it? For _fuck's sake_ , they already have!"

" _Ron!_ " Hermione, "I am the _Head_ of the Department of Magical Law – "

"Oh are you?" Ron threw his hands up in mock defeat, "I'm sorry, I _totally forgot_ , especially after – "

" – And it is my responsibility to ensure the rights of the public aren't being sacrificed, regardless of the situation!"

"Merlin, I wasn't serious! Do you honestly think I'm that stupid! I mean, god, I was just – "

" _Would you both just shut up!"_ He turned so sharply towards his bushy haired best friend that she flinched. "Hermione. We all know it's a problem, but we don't need you going off on every tiny dumb thing we say in anger!" Her eyebrows crinkled and she opened her mouth angrily, but Harry had already turned away.

"And Ron, as much as I love when my second in command explains to me all the ways the department I run is _complete and utter mess as if I don't already know,_ if It doesn't involve any way to _fix things,_ it's not helping!" Ron watched his best friend in stony silence. Harry continued despite it. "We'll reassess our plans on where to target the raids and which group of people we need for questioning in the office tomorrow. Let's just forget about it for now." Harry sank back in his chair. Hermione gazed at him, tight lipped.

"I'm going to step outside for moment. For fresh air." She nodded sharply.

"I'll come too!" Ron tripped over his feet getting out of his chair.

Harry groaned when they left and buried his face in his hands. The last thing he wanted to do was leave Ron and Hermione pissed with him, but he was just as pissed with them.

"Bad time?" Harry turned in his seat to meet the eyes of his godson, who was standing to the side with bright turquoise hair and a suppressed smirk. His hands were shoved in his pockets and he rocked on his feet awkwardly despite himself. Harry struggled to force a humorless laugh from his lips.

"We've faced worse. It's just something about all of this which is bringing our morale down. Take a seat Teddy." Harry pushed his cup of brandy away as Teddy did what he was told. "Now please tell me you're here to bore with details of your fiancée and future wedding, and not because I'm needed back at the office." Teddy smiled sheepishly.

"A little bit of both. I'll start by saying we caught the brother of Jacob Slynt, the man who used the – "

" – Imperius curse on an middle aged muggle so she would take out a knife in the middle of the muggle department store. Thankfully, no one was hurt, and that man is currently in Azkaban." Harry finished for him. "I remember every case that comes through the office Teddy. Please tell me the brother of this man has been placed in _conformable_ conditions, and isn't being treated like a criminal?"

"He's been placed in the detention area of the office. But Jeremy and some of the others were all for giving a little bit of a… preliminary questioning to scare him a little." Harry fought the urge to growl. "I put a stop to it though, and apparated here to see you."

"Ron, Azalea and I will be there for questioning at 6 tomorrow. And send a patronus saying if anyone touches a hair on his head until we get there, they'll be out of a job – no questions asked. We can't just lose our heads just because we're scared. This man hasn't done anything that we know of, and we can't punish him simply for association."

"Innocent men don't run."

"Maybe, but scared men do, regardless if they deserve the punishment they think they'll get. And there's a very, very good chance he wasn't just running from us. What we need out of this man is information over any possible group efforts arising. We want to give him a reason to trust us, and ensure his protection against any of the outside threats his brother may have been tied to, even though Jacob Slynt was very likely another lone wolf."

"A little bit of a dimwitted one too." Teddy couldn't help but chirp.

"Thankfully."

"There's some other things too I've been meaning to tell you. There's been some talk among the younger Aurors."

"There usually is. Ron and I used to spend hours complaining about our Heads when we first started. It's always about how much better we'd run the place if we were in charge." Harry smiled dryly, "Can't say I necessarily feel the same way now that I have to own up to my words."

"Harry, you're a spectacular Head. And it's usually not around me, 'cause they know you're practically my dad." Both Harry and Teddy smiled softly at that. "But I've just caught whispers of you not being… tough enough. That you're going easier on the criminals, and your deputies too. They keep saying that someone like Rory Cahill would be a much better fit as leader of the department at a time like this. Some also think that… you went a little too far in the muggle protection laws you, Ron and Hermione have been drafting with Kingsley for the last couple months."

Harry shrugged. "We're having a department meeting on Friday, and I'll have to just once again explain the importance of firm action over violent crackdowns. We can't infringe upon people's rights and start throwing people in without evidence of conspiracy. And even that has to be collected legally."

"Some people in the wizarding world are calling for death sentences for the murderers."

"The murderers are the ones with connections to the larger neo – Death eater movements."

"Look, Harry, most of them are just a bunch of kids who only a have few years on their back in the office, just like me. They complain about being sent off on goose hunts to the middle of no where, but only 'cause they were expecting something a little more glorious when they joined."

"Yeah, but it's not just them." Harry groaned. "Ron's frustrated over the lack of result of all the raids, even if we do have three trails towards possible headquarters of the organization."

"We've had 8 deliberately planned attacks on muggles and muggle-borns in the last two and a half months. That's not including the spontaneous fights that broke out twice in Diagon Alley." Teddy looked shocked despite the fact that the statistic had been repeated to him many times. "That's _insane_ – double than what we'dve had after 8 months just over a year ago. And then those stupid propaganda pamphlets…"

"Believe me I know." Harry sighed, "I wanted to put an end to this when I took the post of Head auror. After the second wizarding war, I actually thought that… people would be tired of all this hatred."

"People have short memories." Teddy admitted, "And long ones, when it comes to disgraced purebloods. By the way, most of the rookies are pissed with Ron being back."

"That's not entirely fair – the entire department was cheering when they heard that Ron accepted the position as my second deputee after Morris retired a couple months ago. The entire wizarding London seemed a little more hopeful too."

"Well, that was before they knew what a pain in the arse he was to work with." Teddy shrugged.

"Don't get me started about that." Harry rubbed his forehead "For a guy he loves spending time gorging on chocolate and chess in his spare time, he's a doer. He likes getting things done, and all the political bureaucracy and paperwork and planning drives him insane. He keeps telling me to send him on missions and raids, but I _need_ him in the offices to make the _real_ decisions. He's a great leader, even if he doesn't think so – he can rally support and get people to believe in things. He's so honest and forthright that he's won so many supporters… but just as many enemies. He just…"

"Doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut?"

"Yeah." Harry sighed. "But my two deputies, both Azalea and Ron, balance each other out. Azalea will likely be my successor, and she handles a lot of the internal work that bores Ron. They work really well together in dividing the work and responsibility, and I really prefer having Ron with me as my right hand man with Azalea taking control in our absence. And honestly, most of his opponents are witless lackeys with bruised egos, but it doesn't help with the unity in my office that I'm depending on. Politics is a big deal here and Ron just – "

"Doesn't want to play it." Teddy sighed. "Can't say I blame him. Only the beginning of my third year and my head is about to explode with all the underhanded deception and power plays." Harry smiled apologetically.

"Sorry for burdening you with this." He admitted. "I'm just so used to depending on you that I forget how young you are. Not fair at all, I know."

"Well," Teddy stared out at a mother and her teenage son arguing as they crossed the street. "Years of love and acceptance make up for it. I can't ever repay you for that anyway." Harry grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

"You've never had to Teddy. _And you never will._ You belong in the Potter household as much as my other other three children. You're my son in everything name, and that's only because I don't feel right taking the title of 'dad' that – "

"Belonged to my father." There was an odd tinge to Teddy's voice. "I know. It broke my heart as a kid not to call you and Ginny 'mum and dad', but I understand now. I really do."

"Teddy, you mean everything to us." Emotion broke Harry's voice, "I wish we could erase the emptiness that losing – "

"Look Harry, don't worry about it." Teddy effectively cut off the train of the conversation. "Just let me cast the patronus to the office so they don't kill anyone until you get there tomorrow, and then I can bore you with details of my wedding." Noticing Harry's hesitation to change the subject, Teddy reached forward and squeezed his god father's arm. "I'm just really not in the mood of talking about more depressing things today. The early morning raid on McCarthy's house left me really tired, and I just want to think about how hopelessly in love I am."

Harry took a trip to bathroom as Teddy cast the patronus, cleaning up some vomit left by a drunk with the flick of his wand instead of bothering Hannah with it. She usually kept the place squeaky clean, and even small incidents like vomit left her irritated. Or as irritated as Hannah Longbottem could be. Harry caught sight of Ron and Hermione in the gardens outside, deep in conversation. When Harry returned Teddy was twisting his wedding band around his finger, a soft smile subconsciously sliding over his lips.

"We want a winter wedding." Teddy launched the minute Harry sat down.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Really? Because I remember you and Vic were talking about a spring wedding last time she was over for dinner."

"We changed our mind." Teddy nodded, "Everyone has weddings in spring and summer, with the birds chirping and the grass green and the warm sun. But we want… we want to find warmth in the cold, and create our dream wedding in the beautiful depths of reality." Teddy spread his arms out with a dramatic flair, "We want to get married with the world shining and gleaming around us, and with snowflakes glittering in our hair." Teddy sighed with contentment.

"That's very poetic Teddy." Harry smiled warmly, "I know Ginny will love hearing it. And she'll probably be irritated with me for not being as romantic as my godson."

"If that happens, just remind her of the time Ron gave Hermione half a chocolate frog for valentine's day."

"Ron is actually very romantic when he wants to be. Years of epic failure has transformed him into the King of Valentine's day. This summer he took her on a boat ride at night, and when they got back he gave her 3 finished reports on house elf laws that saved her hours of work." Teddy snorted.

"That's your son's future right there. Pigheadedness will lead his interests towards a girl too smart for him, and then he'll eventually fail his way to her heart."

"Teddy." Harry began with amusement, "I remember the last time you were married." Teddy stared at his godfather.

"Well that's good… care to refresh my memory? It seems to have slipped my mind."

"Well…You were six and Vic was four. You got married at the Burrow over Christmas, and you forced uncle Charlie to be the priest. You said that even if Vic stole your chocolate frogs, you'd still always love her. And she said that she'd always love you, no matter how many of her toys you broke with your clumsiness."

"It's really hard to love her when she eats my chocolate frogs, but we manage." Teddy looked out the window. "But… I'm still nervous."

"I was nervous when marrying Ginny too, even though we had been dating for a long time. We were so young – barely two years after the war." Harry ran his hands through his hair. "But the healing that came from confiding in and relying on each other was essential for us. For me. To move on for the past, we had to start a new future."

Teddy continued to twist his wedding band. "I love her Harry. I love her so so much… that it…"

"It scares you." Harry finished. Teddy flashed him a sheepish smile.

"It terrifies me. And it shouldn't – this is the girl who's been my best friend for most of my life! We climbed trees together and spent weekends swimming and drinking hot chocolate afterwards at Shell cottage! We went on secret adventures through the Forbidden forest and nana's closet – " Teddy froze. Harry watched with amusement as he took a sip of brandy.

"Teddy, if you still think she didn't know about that, then I may have to reconsider your spot in the Auror office." Teddy looked down.

"The Auror office…that's… that's part of the reason why I'm… so scared." Harry's eyes lit up with realization.

"Oh…" Harry looked out the window, examining the leave swirling upon the pavement from the patterns of the wind.

"I…" Teddy squeezed his eyes shut, "I promised her. I _promised her_ that I will _always_ be there for her. _Always."_ He shifted on the spot. "But on the raid last week, when Jack was put in the hospital for a week… I realized that… I can't. I can't make that promise. Cause being an Auror…" Teddy attempted to form the words as he wrung his hands. "The woman was _dead_ Harry. She was… she was only a _muggle."_ Teddy wouldn't meet his godfather's eyes. "And we still haven't caught the person who committed it and… there's a horrid person out there, and a hundred like him in the world, just waiting to hurt more people for _absolutely no reason._ Victoire's so driven… so determined. She's a Ravenclaw to the bone… but she's… she's brave and powerful and… she's truly a queen. She's independent but… I want to give her _everything._ But as much as I want to protect the world for her… what good is wanting to if I can't even protect myself?"

Harry hated the sense of hopelessness that had become familiar over the years beginning to fill his godson. People like him became Aurors because they felt they had a duty to protect the world – to protect the people they loved. But so often, it served as a bitter reminder of how impossible that was. And with the responsibility came the guilt of every failure, the pain of every loss, and the fear of the the reality of your vulnerability.

"Teddy… I wish I could say it becomes easier." He finally admitted.

"But it doesn't." Teddy's fair faded into a slightly pale color without him realizing.

"When you decide to be an auror, you're taking on the responsibility of the world… and the difficulties. But Teddy… getting married is starting your life with someone. It's a way of telling the one you love that they will never walk alone. You'll never let Victoire walk alone, but she won't let you walk alone either. I bet if she knew you were thinking you feel obligated to protect her, she'd cast a bat bogey hex at you just to prove she doesn't need it." Teddy grinned.

"She would." He remarked fondly, "She's a Weasley woman to the bone."

"What I'm saying is that you're partners now. You have to rely on each other, and you'll need to accept that sometimes it means one of you will need each other more than the other. And vice versa. But admitting your fears and limitations to each other will only make you both, and your relationship stronger." Teddy nodded.

"I know… I'll start talking about it… being an Auror and all the stuff that comes with that. I don't regret it though." This time Teddy met Harry's eyes with stiff determination. "I don't regret it for a moment. Being an Auror."

"That's the worst part." Harry laughed softly, "You never regret it – no matter how much you want to."

Ron and Hermione returned from the garden outside, walking hand in hand and seeming altogether more relaxed.

"Back now?" Harry asked, "Ready to apologize for being a prat?"

"Not really." Ron shrugged. "You?"

"I'll pass." Harry took another calm sip of his brandy. Then they grinned at each other and Hermione shook her head fondly.

"We never change, do we?" She laughed.

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it." Ron frowned. "Or if it's really broken, don't even try fixing it, 'cause you'll just muck it up even more."

"Take a seat." Harry said, but Ron shook his head.

"We'll go ahead," Ron pulled "I'm taking my wife home. She needs a night off from being the most brilliant witch and the best damn Head of Magical Law the wizarding world has ever seen." He flashed her a goofy grin that she blushed and attempted to roll her eyes to.

"We'll talk more tomorrow." Hermione became serious again when she looked at Harry. "We're all meeting Kingsley and the board on Thursday at 6 to present the draft revisions for the laws, and so I'll send you the reports on how similar laws have changed the public outlook in countries that've already implemented them, like Norway and Sweden, so you can start formatting all of our presentation speeches." Ron gazed at her with admiration.

"Be jealous." Ron smirked, "My wife is changing the world with reports on Norway."

When they apparated home to probably do things Harry didn't want to imagine his best friends doing, Teddy raised his glass. "To love."

"To love." Harry whispered.

Sometimes that made it so much harder, but it's also what made it all worthwhile.

* * *

It was dark and chilly when Harry finally left the pub, having spent another hour discussing the wedding and explaining to Teddy what to expect in his future married life. Still feeling uneasy with this combination of weariness and unspent energy simmering inside of him, he decided to take a small walk around Diagon alley in a last ditch effort to relieve himself of his thoughts.

"Wait!" An urgent, high – pitched voice called out. When Harry turned, he saw a little girl about six years old in a bright pink coat racing forward towards him. Behind her he noticed an older woman, probably her mother, sprinting after her.

"Julia!" The mother grabbed the girl's shoulder when they reached Harry, flushing red with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry Mr. Potter, we really didn't mean to bother you. She just made you something after I read her a book about you, and I _told_ her we'd mail it, but she just saw your hair – "

"Oh no, it's no bother! My children were the exact same way – I could never keep them still when they wanted to see something or someone. Still can't actually." Harry bent down one knee and extended his hand towards the girl. "Hello. My name is Harry. What's yours?"

"Julia." The curly brunette licked her lips and backed a way in a sudden flash of shyness. She reached out gingerly and shook his hand. Harry's luminous green eyes twinkled.

"That's a beautiful name. I love your jacket. Where did you get it?"

"Ma – dam Mally."

"It's what she calls Madam Malkin's." Her mother leapt in to explain.

"Mally," Harry chuckled, 'I'll remember that."

"I…" The girl seemed to be struggling to find her voice now that she had actually met the man she had only dreamed of meeting. "I made…" Wordlessly, she pulled out a piece of paper from her jacket pocket.

It was a heart shaped piece of cream paper, colored with a rainbow of different colors. It said, _To My Most Favorite Hero of All Time! Thank you for saving the world – I want to be just like you when I grow up!_ Below it was a hand drawn picture of little baby in a crib, with bright green eyes and a lightning scar.

"This is so beautiful Julia." Harry's heart swelled with emotion. "I absolutely love it." He spent another fifteen minutes afterwards asking her questions about drawing, complimenting her, and afterwards promised to bring Ginny to their house for a cup of tea. Before they left, he took a picture with the girl which they both signed. Harry wrote a message on the back that made the girl grab his neck and refuse to let go until Harry promised he would come to their house to play the very next day after work.

As Harry apparated home he began thinking of how it was moments like these that reminded him why it was impossible to regret becoming an Auror. But they made the thought of failing so much more terrifying too.

* * *

 _Flashback 2012:_

His mother had been lying upon her bed, her legs splaying to the side at awkward angles. Drool dribbled from her mouth that hung open as she snored. His father was away that night on some business no one would tell Scorpius, no matter how much he begged. He walked on his tiptoes through the vast, slightly intimidating room, keeping his gaze trained upon the ground where he wouldn't see anything grand enough to excite his currently fearful imagination. When he stopped on the edge of her bed, he considered creeping back instead of bothering her, but the thought of the darkness of his empty bed destroyed all thoughts of that. He carefully stuck a finger out and gently prodded her. When she didn't stir he poked her again. He began repeatedly jabbing her all over her body – between her eyes, her belly, her nose, her legs, her neck, her mouth.

"Hmm?" Astoria groaned before turning over, her face twisting as she attempted to open her eyes. A rush of guilt flooded Scorpius, and he almost ran back towards his room before his mother murmured, "Scorpius?"

"There's monsters Mummy!" The words spilled from his mouth and any attempts of level headed bravery were forgotten. "They're dark and cold and – "

"Did you seem them?" Astoria asked groggily as she pushed herself up.

"No!" Scorpius's grey eyes swung open. "But I _heard_ them!"

"What did they sound like?" Scorpius opened his mouth angrily, then twisted his jaw to the side to form a confused pout.

" _Scary_." He finally said with sharp nod. "I had to fight them to get out." He had added, thinking she would be impressed with his bravery (and less irritated that he had woken her up at this late hour). She did sit up straighter when she said that, suddenly alert.

"Oh." She wrinkled her eyebrows. "You fought with them?" Scorpius nodded eagerly.

"I punched them and kicked them and bit them when they grabbed on to me!" Scorpius mimed the actions as he described them. Astoria bit her lip.

"Love, did you try talking to them?" Astoria's voice was as light and gentle as her touch, but Scorpius was dumbfounded.

"They were scary!"

"So no?" Scorpius continued to stare at his mother before shaking his head slowly. "But – " Astoria silenced him with another touch on the arm.

"How about I go and talk with them? To see what they want." Scorpius grabbed her arm and clenched it so tightly she felt a stab of pain from his nails.

"No! They'll hurt you!" Astoria laughed.

"Hurt me?" She picked up her wand that was lying upon her bedside table. "When I have my wand? They wouldn't dare!" She leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially. "They'd be too scared." Despite that, Scorpius paced around the room with bated breath when his mother left to 'talk with the monsters'. He let out a breath of relief when she returned unscathed, before running and wrapping his arms around her, burying his face against her hip. Astoria leaned down and took her son's face in her hands.

"What did they say?"

"They said they were sorry they scared you. But the thing is, they were scared too."

"Scared?" Scorpius leaned away, "Of what?"

"Of you." Scorpius's jaw dropped.

"Huh?" He wrenched out of his mother's grasp. "Wha – why? How?"

"The way you looked scared them." Astoria had a knowing twinkle in her eye despite her straight face.

" _Me?_ They're the ones with big teeth and lots of hair and black eyes – " Scorpius had forgotten that he had said before that he hadn't seen them.

"But," Astoria interjected, "You had no hair and tiny teeth and grey eyes."

"That's not scary." Scorpius crossed his arms.

"It is if they've never seen it before. Just like they're only scary because you've never seen them before."

Scorpius didn't seem to understand.

"You think they're monsters because they look different, but they think you are a monster because you look different."

"And because everyone's so scared of them," Astoria continued, feeling slightly excited, "They have no place to stay. They're very lonely and only want a nice, warm place to rest. Do you think you could let them stay under your bed?"

"They're lonely?" Scorpius whispered softly.

"Yes."

"And scared?" Water seemed to fill Scorpius's wide eyes.

"Yes, they are."

"Because nobody likes them?"

"Everyone's too scared to get to know them."

"Nobody likes them, and they don't know why, and that makes them sad?" Her son's feeble voice sent pangs of pain and anger ringing through her heart.

"Yes love."

Scorpius's tiny face hardened with determination. "They can stay under my bed forever."

After that day, Scorpius fiercely protected and loved the monsters under his bed. He'd talked to them when he felt lonely (which was often), drew pictures for them, and even made his parents buy them gifts on Christmas. Draco became a little worried when Scorpius even started leaving food, water and toys under the bed for them, but Astoria told him to let their son indulge his imagination. She probably knew that the imaginary monsters under his bed were the closest he would get to childhood friends.

And anyway, afterward it seemed fitting to him that the imaginary friend of a Malfoy was what everyone thought to be a monster.

* * *

 _Modern Day:_

Scorpius had intended to draw his curtains around his bed and lay with his head buried in his pillow for the rest of the evening. There was a possibility that somewhere in between wanting to cry and falling asleep he would lose air and die of suffocation, but he told himself not to be too hopeful.

Instead, he ended up laying on his back and glaring at the ceiling. For a solid two hours. He didn't bother closing his curtains and his feet hung off the edge of the bed. His arms were crossed tightly against his chest and he could feel the tenseness of the muscles in his jaw. Inspirational sayings his mother often told him occasionally flitted through his head, but were shoved to the side in favor of more deliciously outraged thoughts.

First he began by replaying the situation in his head. He began imagining specific faces as the entire event unfolded; he analyzed every sneer that passed over Madgewick's face, the way her eyes narrowed with disgust and widened with outrage at every word that passed from his lips. He imagined Stonebrooke's face, recreating the suspicion and irritation and dislike he was now certain he had seen upon her at the time.

He imagined the faces of the professors; Longbottom and Lindsey and Slughorn – all excited and giddy and eager to watch his face turn red or for all the students to laugh and insult him in the way they longed to…

He started reimagining the faces of the Potter – Weasleys. After two hours he was absolutely certain that James' had been mocking, a smirk had been plastered upon Dominique's, Fred and Roxanne had been harbouring wicked smiles, Sara had been giggling with delight…

Finally came Al's face. Scorpius thought about Al long and hard, anger twisting every single memory with his best friend into an experience where Al's "feigned" happiness thinly veiled an obvious display of superiority and disgust. Finally, Scorpius decided that Al's face when had been full of supressed laughter and angry disbelief and embarrassment to be associated to someone like him. Occasionally, he remembered that Al had stood up for him, but he tossed those memories away too.

And Rose?

What about her? She had forced her way into her life, and every time he tried to push her away she only held unto him and their friendship tighter.

 _She only wants me 'cause she thinks it's the easiest way to be a rebel._

Disbelief and uncertainty began to retake hold of his consciousness.

 _They care about you._

 _Then where are they now?_ The Malfoy in him remarked snidely.

 _I sent them away. They wanted to give me space._

 _Give you space or give them space?_

 _Me._

 _Really? Are you sure they aren't beginning to regret saying they were your friend, now that they know how embarrassing that is?_

 _No, they'd tell me._

 _If they were really your friends, they'd be here asking you how you felt. If they really cared._

 _I told them I wanted to be alone._

 _No one ever wants to be alone._

Well what did they know about being lonely?

The resentment began to burn so fiercely that it singed the edges of his insides. But he kept feeding it, with anger and frustration and irritated memories and dark thoughts of all the good things he'd been cheated of. He could almost taste the flames, and their scorching heat became addictive to his his tongue.

What did Al know about empty rooms and having conversations with blank walls? What did Rose know about having _no freaking idea_ of what to say to a father who he sometimes couldn't help but resent? What did Al and James – the great sons of _Harry heroic Potter,_ who grew up with people bowing and congratulating them when they just walked into a store – know about getting yelled and spit at when they walked down the street? What did Victoire – _Victory_ , for Merlin's sake – or Dominique or Louis, know about everyone wanting you to fail? What did Roxanne and Fred, both diabolical and more devious than he could ever be, know about never being trusted enough to be anybody's friend? What did they know about wondering _every single day_ what they were?

What was he? Because somewhere in between telling himself everyone was wrong about the person they were convinced he was, he began wondering how he knew that? How did he truly _know_ whether they were _wrong_?

Why was he even trying so hard to believe they were wrong? To _prove_ them wrong, when it obviously didn't seem to make a difference.

Wouldn't it be so much easier to play the part they had given him?

What did any of those Weasleys – those loud, fearless, outspoken Weasleys – know about biting on their words every night until the bitter taste become so familiar it began to coat all of their thoughts?

What did any of them know about being hated so much you began to hate yourself? Everyone loved them – _the world_ loved them. How could they ever have any trouble loving themselves?

Scorpius was suddenly pulling himself out of bed, buttoning his shirt and fixing his tie and and shoving his feet into shoes. He found himself swinging open the door and stumbling down the stairs and throwing himself out of the Gryffindor common room. There might have been someone who called out to him or someone who looked at him, but he didn't see anything.

He was outside, throwing one foot in front of the other, his anger propelling him forward to no destination in his mind. He marched through the grounds, but no movement was sufficient to rid himself of the fire he saw before him, around him…within him. The setting sun spilled over the sky, blazing across Scorpius's eyes.

Then he heard them.

A group of Hufflepuffs were gathered around outside, laughing together over a single comic book. There was something about the high pitched giggles that grated against Scorpius's ears. They were staring down at their book, and it might have meant nothing, but he felt as if it was directed at him. He could feel their laughter vibrating against his skin, goading him. He clenched his teeth and felt the throb of blood pulsing through his head. A couple looked up and saw him standing there and the laughter died in their throats.

"What?" Scorpius snapped, twisting his lips into a sneer. Most of them immediately looked away, but one particularly stubborn first year met his gaze with a mulish look of superiority.

"What do you want?" He spat. The others became more stiff at their friend's lack of common sense.

"For you to shut up," Scorpius's aggressive tone surprised even himself, "Do you know irritating it is to have to listen to empty-headed Hufflepuffs laughing about something equally stupid?"

"Then go somewhere else." The boy snarled. "No one wants to talk with you anyway, _Malfoy!"_

Within seconds Scorpius was towering over the boy, extending his hands and roughly yanking the boy up by his shirt, boring into his eyes with sharp determination.

"That's the thing…" Scorpius drawled, "I don't think I want to…"

 _Mother would hate this._ He roughly shoved the thought to the side.

The others scattered, backing away slowly before abandoning all pretence and sprinting back to the castle. Scorpius actually felt irritated by their lack of loyalty, and truly considered calling them back to reprimand them for not standing up for their friend, before his anger took control of the limited decision – making abilities that remained inside of him.

The world around him grew blurry and nonexistent. All that seemed to matter was the growing fear in the boy's eyes that birthed an intoxicating feeling of power. He'd never done this before, _never,_ and he knew it was wrong, horribly wrong, and that even now he began to feel nauseous, but didn't _someone else_ deserve to feel as frustrated and humiliated and –

"Scorpius?" An incredulous voice called out. Scorpius flinched, momentarily slackening his grip upon the boy's shirt. He took it as opportunity to slide out of Scorpius's grasp, stumbling over the rocks when his feet hit the ground. One look at the boy's skinny knees and crazed eyes and regret flooded him so furiously that he couldn't remember how any amount of anger could have driven him to do such a thing.

 _There you go Malfoy, now you're exactly what they think you are! You feel good? Did you like it you stupid, weak, foolish –_

"He just grabbed me!" The boy pointed and yelled with such a high-pitched whine that Scorpius had to resist the urge to box him over the ears. "He was gonna hit me – and hurt me, and – "

"Yeah, jus' like the centaur who was gonna stomp yer face into the dust?" Hagrid almost spat, but his anger wasn't directed at the boy. "Run along now, if you know what's good fer yuh." The boy looked affronted, but another look at Scorpius and the boy needed no more encouragement.

"What d'yeh think yer doing Scorpius?" Hagrid's massive size, usually rendered inconsequential by his loving nature, made him look fierce in his outrage and shock.

"I… I was…" The anger that had poured the rush of adrenaline into his blood was fading from his system so quickly it left him breathless. "I… I'm not sure."

"Follow me." Hagrid was suddenly gruff. Together they walked to Hagrid's cabin, Scorpius trailing after Hagrid's long, stumbling stride. When they reached inside, Hagrid practically tossed his tea pot upon the stove.

"Sit down, will yuh!" Scorpius flinched at the sound of Hagrid's booming voice, creeping towards the edge of the chair in an attempt to make himself more insignificant. Hagrid began yanking things around the kitchen, and throwing them around in an attempt to appear like he was doing something important.

"What were yuh _think_ \- ing Scorpius?" Hagrid turned suddenly with the water in the pot in his hand sloshing unto the ground as he did so.

"I wasn't." Scorpius was about to sigh, before he realized he was so tired of sighing and being upset and feeling so _utterly useless._ Fury rose within him again. "No I was. I was thinking of how sick I was of being hated, and ridiculed and bullied, and I figured I might as well _do the things everyone hates me for._ " Hagrid stared at him before turning away gruffly back to the stove.

"Well it seems to me that you're lettin' _them_ win. Madgewick and those Slytherins and all those other bullies."

"Well what do you know?" Scorpius growled. Hagrid slammed the pot on the table so hard the water soared up and splashed all over the wood.

"What do I know? _What do I know?_ How many half giants do you see sittin' aroun' here everyday Malfoy? You think your daddy's the only one who liked making fun of us?"

 _Malfoy._

"Hagrid, I – "

"You know what yer real problem is Scorpius? Yuh love sitting around and feelin' sorry fer yerself." Scorpius's jaw dropped.

There were many things Scorpius had been accused of over his lifetime. It included being unable to defend himself or being a little too quiet or a little too withdrawn. It included being dumb and rude and evil. But he had never been accused of this, and when he thought about it, Scorpius never felt weaker.

"Meaning?" Scorpius asked, but the malice in his voice had disappeared.

"Yer not the only one that don't feel like you belong. What d'yeh think all those muggle-borns are feelin' every year they come to this school? What d'yeh think any of us who're half – giant or half – veela or half somethin' or another feel? Yer not the only one with articles being written about you or people thinking yer a nasty piece of work without even knowing you? You think it was easy for Harry an' Dumbledore, being laughed at fer a year just 'cause they told the truth? Or anyone who tells the truth someone doesn't wanna hear?"

Scorpius wanted to argue; he wanted to defend this whining boy Hagrid had created. This person… sounded a lot like him. What had he truly done with his life but sit around and wish he was a different person with a different last name? He supposed that he knew there were people who didn't belong, but he never believed that it was enough to reach the level of ostracism that he had faced. Especially not _Harry Potter…_

"But yuh know what makes them real special?" Hagrid continued, "They do somethin' _with it._ You think just anyone's got it in 'em to be a Hermione Granger or a Ron Weasley or a Harry Potter? It ain' all about brains or talent or even destiny. It's about taking the things you love and the things you hate an' doing something special with 'em. Whether it's Hermione fightin' for house elves, even if everyone – like me – said that it was a waste 'o time, she did it an' she made it happen 'cause she knew what it was like to be hated and mistreated for something she didn' do. She didn't sit around and cry 'cause she wanted to make things happen instead – an' look at her! She didn't become the brightest witch of her age overnight – she did it by reading and studying and practsing! And then you got Ron, who instead of sitting around and feeling sorry for himself cause he felt useless being the youngest Weasley boy, he faced all that dragon's dung spinning around in that head about being no good, and stuck with his best friend through all the crazy crap life threw at 'em. Loyalty's the hardest thing in the world, and the scariest, but he managed it. An' Harry…" Hagrid took a couple seconds to regain himself.

"He was the chosen one." Hagrid snorted so loudly Fang woke up with a whine and raised his head from his paws.

"The chosen one – that's a load of bullocks for anyone that knows a flying flobberworm about Harry Potter. Destiny may've come knocking on his door, but he didn't have to go an' answer it. Those three went aroun' practically looking for a world to save when most would've just sat at home and ignored the crazy stuff happening around 'em." Hagrid continued shaking his head, " _The chosen one._ Honestly."

"I'm…I'm so sorry.' Scorpius blinked rapidly.

"Nah, don't go saying that. Yer a good kid, an' it hurts to see good kids sellin' themselves short." Hagrid reached over and patted his hand. "Yer gonna do a lot Scorpius, especially with Al and Rose with you. We all get upset an' angry an' sometimes hole ourselves up in our rooms. But don't become… that Scorpius. A bully no one likes havin' around – yer not made for it, and at the end o' the day you'll feel better doin' something good rather than sittin' around and wondering why the world's so messed up. An' if you let yerself be a bully, you'll regret it fer the rest of your life."

"What… what do you think I can do?" Hagrid stared.

"Well I don't know Scorpius – that's up to you to figure out. But everyone else who's yer friend's there to help you when you ask fer it, and tell you that you can do the things you can't." Scorpius stared at his hands. They were so soft and white and… unused. The were tiny little cotton balls in comparison to Hagrid's massive, tanned calluses.

"A lot of people laugh at you Hagrid." Scorpius found himself saying, "Saying that you don't know what you're doing, going around and looking for all those monsters."

"Every creature's a monster 'till you know what it wants. Everythin' out there just wants the same kind 'o things. A warm bed to sleep in, some good food in their belly, an' usually at least one or two people to stick aroun' when life gets tough." He became a little gruff. "Everythin' out there wants someone to love 'em, no mater what they are or how they look or where they come from. They just want to be…"

"Accepted." Scorpius finished softly.

"Yeah. That." The chair creaked dangerously as Hagrid shifted, "We all want someone to love us, no matter if we're different or ugly or scary. An' it's the same if you're talkin' about dragons or hippogriffs or a pile 'o flobberworms. We're all one an' the same."

"I'm not a complete oaf yuh know." Hagrid belched loudly after taking another slurp from his cup. "I know how kids like yer dad thought about how I looked after 'em. Even Ron an' Harry an' Hermione – that I didn' know what I was doin'. But if yuh give somethin' enough love an' appreciation, it's not really a monster anymore, it it?"

"No…" Scorpius shook his head, "It's not."

* * *

It genuinely surprised Rose that they hadn't realized this would be a problem. In her excitement to punish the woman who had brought so much misery upon her best friend, she had failed to realize that to do so, she would have to somehow convince a group of Potter-Weasleys to work together. And it was a well-known fact that Potter-Weasleys didn't agree on anything except that Percy Weasley's cauldron bottom reports were a bore.

"That is so lame." James snorted, eyeing his brother with a disappointment. Al crossed his arms, his lips shaping into a small, unintentional pout.

"It's not lame! It's embarrassing!"

"A farting charm Al? What are you, nine?"

"You did it last year!" James shook his head dismissively.

"Yeah, only Fred and I did it on Valentine's Day, and we did it on _all_ the boys who gave any girls flowers – "

"Just 'cause you're too much of a prat to get a girl, doesn't mean you had to punish everyone else who did." Dominique rolled her eyes, but James was too caught up in the superiority of his pranking success to pay any heed to his older cousin.

" – to use such a simple prank on one person without any larger purpose is simply an indication of lacking the ability to be creative. It's just rough! It's clumsy! Unprofessional!"

"Amateur?" Fred offered while sucking on a liquorice wand.

"Amateur!" James nodded with curt satisfaction. "You never build a reputation for your work if you don't put in your full energy, dedication, an imagination."

"That's so touching James." Roxanne was admiring flawlessly painted nails. "Simply inspiring. One would think you were talking about your job, not your obsession with irritating teachers." James was too lost in the world of shame that his brother had brought on the Potter name to pay heed.

"A fart charm? Merlin's pants, you might as well stick a 'kick me' sign on her back while you're at it."

"Fine. We could set a creature on her?" There was a peevish lilt to Al's voice.

"Cliché." James dismissed the idea with a professional wave of his hand. "It's an old tactic which only works when it is preceding or following a much larger act. We need to do this with a bang."

" _You_ set a niffler on her!"

"Simply an anecdote to break the monotony between our major exploits." James knocked his skinny knees together, His glasses sat crooked upon his face, oddly enhancing the charm of his energetic expression. "We need something bold. Something spectacular. Something unforgettable. We have to _make her feel_ how painful it was to… make Scorpius, and others… a joke and a show… _a spectacle_ for other people's enjoyment." James became momentarily pensive before reassuming the façade of uncontainable energy. "I'm thinking somehow getting her on a hippogriff and taking her on a joyride around the castle. She hates anything to do with flying – imagine the entire school watching her as she screams!"

"Where would you get a Hippogriff?" Al muttered.

"Same place we could get a dragon egg or a giant named Grawp. _Hagrid moron._ "

"Then how on earth would you get her on it?" Al threw his arms up in the air. "Would you just say, 'Please Professor, would you mind stepping on this _hippogriff_ for minute – "

"Same way I got you on the roof in the middle of the night when you were eight." James smirked.

"That was terrifying!"

"I stayed up there with you the whole time!"

"Only to see my reaction when I woke up, and I still have no idea how you pulled that off!"

Roxanne sighed loudly. "The best way to make someone feel humiliated is by placing them in an situation that makes them feel ugly. It sucks all the self – confidence and self – worth right out of them. Force her into something absurdly ridiculous for a week and she'll feel horrid."

"Clothes?" Al's uncertainty resulted in Roxanne snapping her head up in defiance.

"Yes clothes!" Roxanne wrinkled her nose, "Do you doubt it? Cause I have some excellent fluffy pink dresses that I would _love_ to parade you around in for the next month."

"No, I'm just wondering how on earth you'd _strip her down,_ much less dress her up in your choice of clothing."

"Well." James remarked with a faintly disgusted look. "Personally, I would rather live in a pile of dragon dung for a couple years rather that deal with seeing any portion of Madgewick… unclothed," A shiver shuddered through him. "Her face is already enough to induce nausea."

"Well it's the only action you'd ever get in your lifetime James." Dominique was seated with her feet planted firmly upon the ground a good distance away from each other. Her sharp eyes swung through the room with a fierce, calculating look and the fiery fringe of her pixie cut hanging above them. Like James, she seemed ready to leap up to her feet at the slightest provocation, except there was a greater deal of precision in hers. "And while I love pulling a good prank as much as the next Weasley, I have important things to do in my life, and I'm not gonna jeopardize it by going to Azkaban for _magically drugging a teacher_. So I'm thinking banners. Big banners. Covering the great hall. Filled with exaggerated cartoon pictures of Madgewick, charmed to show her bullying little children, banning Quidditch, and stealing happiness."

"I could draw them…" James mused. "Leave her with talons, a stomach overflowing with children's smiles, and buck teeth poking out of her harpy's beak."

"Cartoons and Quidditch." Roxanne seemed uneasy, "That doesn't spell out Weasleys at all. And if James' gonna draw them, he might as well sign his name on them."

"They can't _prove_ anything." James argued.

"All they would have to do is open your homework notes and see the exact same cartoons you spend most of History of Magic doodling."

"Nothing stopped them from looking through Scorpius's stuff." Al added softly. "There's nothing stopping anyone from looking through yours."

"And something as blatantly offensive as that," Roxanne, "Could warrant a suspension. We need to leave no tracks that someone could use to find evidence against us."

"Personally," Fred mused, "I'm more in the mood for doing something with her room. She screams every time someone leaves a quill upon the ground after class – imagine what she'd do if we absolutely covered everything in ice, paint, or – "

"Glitter." James grinned. "Lots and lots of glitter." Fred nodded enthusiastically.

"Enough so she wouldn't be able to get it out for a week."

"Or out of her hair for a month." Roxanne smirked.

Rose and Al exchanged a glance with each other. While both of them relished the thought of leaving Madgewick red faced and steaming, they didn't feel that humiliating her was enough to leave her with the same emotions of guilt and degraded self worth that made her such a horrid person.

"It's all possible…" Sara spoke up suddenly, raising her head from the three books she had been digging through, "But I don't think that we're thinking in the right direction." James narrowed his eyes.

"Well at least we're _thinking_."

"And I'm willing to accept that James's lack of practice in the area is making that difficult," Sara began carefully, "But none of this really communicates… the injustice of what she's doing."

"Meaning…?" Roxanne motioned with her hands for Sara to continue.

"I mean that we're thinking in terms of getting a laugh or being entertaining. We're trying to irritate her. But I think that what we're doing needs to be less amusing and more… of a statement. It needs to be _directly_ related to what she did to Scorpius." Sara bit her lip, "That probably doesn't make sense."

"No!" Rose straightened up sharply, "It does! It has to be _directly related_ to what she did to Scorpius. It has to do with jewelry, and her taking something from us."

"That's what I was thinking," Sara nodded, "She humiliated Scorpius by saying he took something from her. It's only equally humiliating if she's accused of taking something from us."

"You wanna frame her?" Dominique remarked with a dubious raising of her brow. "It's kinda her word against ours."

"If it was just the word of five people against a teacher's it wouldn't work. But if it's – " Sara began with flushed cheeks.

" – the word of more than fifty people against hers, it would." James flashed a musing smile at Sara, which she returned with hesitation.

"Where on earth are we getting fifty people?" Fred demanded, "Most people aren't exactly part of Scorpius Malfoy's fan club. And what in Merlin are we accusing her of taking?"

"Say everyone lost something – " Sara tapped the seat of the couch in a frenzied attempt to keep up with her thoughts.

" – And everyone wanted it back," Rose murmured with her brow furrowed in concentration. "God! Imagine her having to give the things people accused her of taking, back in front of everyone!"

"There's no way to guarantee she would have to." Fred scoffed. "She'd just say she didn't take whatever this imaginary object is, and that would be it."

"No," James nodded, "But she would if Stonebrooke said she had to."

"There's no way on earth Stonebrooke would – "

"She would if we made it worth her while." Rose pondered.

"Well," Sara jutted her chin out stubbornly. "Would covering Madgewick's room with jewelry from every girl in Hogwarts be considered worth her while?" Dominique's jaw fell open, Roxanne and Fred's necks swung so suddenly there seemed to be a danger of whiplash. Al just blinked. But James and Rose exchanged a look before whooping with delight.

"That's perfect!" Rose squealed. "Imagine her face when she wakes up and sees the entire school asking for their stuff back from her!"

"Go big or go home!" James was laughing so hard he choked, "Merlin Jati, this day is _almost_ worth having to see your ugly face for the next 4 and a half years!"

"Jati?" Sara wrinkled her nose.

"Barjati's too long." James waved it away with his hand.

"What are you all smoking?" Fred suddenly exploded, "That's insane!"

"Which is what makes it absolutely perfect!" Rose laughed, so giddy she seemed a little drunk, "Imagine the _entire school_ standing against Magdewick!"

"You're never going to get every girl in the school to chalk over their jewellery to help _Scorpius Malfoy."_ Fred growled, "And if everyone wanted to take a stand against Madgewick, they would've done it today instead of laughing!"

"Well," Rose shrugged, "They just need some people to organize the movement. Which we're here to do!"

"Besides," Sara added, rejuvenated with confidence now that she knew at at least two people weren't laughing her out of the room, "We don't need people to be pro-Scorpius. We need them to be anti – Madgewick. Everyone has been humiliated or seen someone humiliated in some way by her. We just need to tap into the right emotions to convince them to give both their jewellery and their voice when we need it."

"Someone'll snitch," Roxanne couldn't help but add, despite not wanting to seem nervous.

"But," James smirked, "It's too big to punish _everyone_ for. If everyone in the school added something that belongs to them, they're all taking a bit of the blame. Unless _everyone_ in the school steps up and said _we_ stole jewelry from them, which is unlikely – "

"They can't punish everyone!" Excitement crept into Al's voice. "And if we can actually get it, we can replicate it all by ten, and completely cover her room with it."

"That's a sixth year incantation." Fred grumbled, "Do any of you know a sixth year incantation?"

"Dominique's a fifth year!" Sara swung her head to face the older girl. "Do you know it?"

"Sara…" Dominque seemed amused, "You're more likely to know it than I am. I spend my life on the Quidditch pitch – I barely have time to learn the spells I need to."

"Do you?" James grabbed her arm, causing her to flinch away. James automatically withdrew his hand, but didn't relax his intense gaze, "I know you were practising some fifth year spells for the last couple months."

"I tried it," Sara seemed a little irritated, "But everything that replicated was distorted and black. It wouldn't… I couldn't do it."

"As heartbreaking as Sara being unable to do a spell three years above her is – " Fred began heatedly.

"We can get some sixth or seventh year to do it for us." Rose waved her hand in dismissal.

"No one's going to believe she took all that stuff." It seemed to be a last ditch effort from Fred to convince everyone how ridiculous the plan was.

"We don't need anyone to." Dominque scratched her chin. "We just need to make it impossible for her to oppose it, with our strength in numbers. The point is that it's humiliating to have so many people accuse you of something that isn't true. The point is to _hurt her,_ not really get her in trouble."

"Fred," A sly smile crept over Sara's lips, "I _bet_ that I can get most of the girls from at least one house to chalk something over. Are you saying that _I'm_ more charming and persuasive than you?" Fred's eyes flew open, slightly irritated that now he was obligated to defend his pride.

"I could convince a girl to jump off a bridge if I wanted to." Fred grumbled, "So you should quit tempting me to try it on you."

"We'll need your _skills_." Sara nodded a little teasingly, "Mostly because we know James is gonna end up putting his foot in his mouth somehow."

"More likely you'll need my charm to balance your inability to talk without insulting someone." James inserted smoothly.

"Fred and Roxanne can take the girls in Gryffindor," Rose commanded, "They're some of the most popular. Sara and James will take the girls in Ravenclaw," She rose her voice to talk over their protests, "Because _they balance each other out_."

"Rose and I'll take Slytherin," Al leapt in with a wicked smile that made Rose's eyes shine a little brighter.

"I can take the girls in Hufflepuff." Dominique remarked. "And I can get all the boys in the rest of the houses – they have earrings and armbands and stuff that can pass for jewellery."

" _All the boys?"_

"Boys respond to two things." Dominique snorted. "Attraction and Aggression. And I like to consider myself very adept in both of them." James and Al exchanged a miffed expression.

"We have to collect everything we can – rings, earrings, necklaces, bracelets, anklets," Rose continued, "They can be fake, diamonds, gold – I don't care if you have to hand them _money_ to get it from them. Use any guilt trip, threats, explanations or even _violence."_ Rose became so forceful that everyone flinched.

"Well I'd hate to be in Slytherin right now." James quipped.

"Afterwards, we'll find someone to replicate it all." Rose's blue eyes shone with anticipation. "And completely _fill_ Madgewick's room."

* * *

Sometimes it truly amazed them both how much one could infuriate the other. To understand this, it had to be recognized that both Sara and James had proclaimed themselves to be completely uncaring of what anyone else in the world thought of them.

"The trick you did with the mending charm yesterday… it was interesting how you managed to put things together even though they hadn't really been broken." Sara attempted grudgingly as they crept through the empty halls towards the Ravenclaw tower, for a reason she didn't altogether understand. James laughed humorlessly.

"Yes, I'm sure you were _amazed_ that someone as _incorrigibly vain_ as I am managed to look away from my mirror to attempt even the most _basic spell_."

"I never said that." Sara muttered with clenched teeth. "The way you used the spell was interesting. Clever even, how you kinda tricked your wand. You could've just taken the compliment and shut up."

"Yes, well I never said I wish you'd crawl in a hole so I'd never have to see your face again, but the meaning was sort of implied, wasn't it?" James remarked amiably.

"Yes." Sara remarked heatedly, "And I never said being a friend involved not lying to me before humiliating me in front of the entire common room, but it was somewhat expected, wasn't it?" The mood of their conversation dropped a solid 15 degrees.

"I did everything to make that up to you." James was suddenly quiet, anger quivering beneath his words. "And instead of letting me, you took everything and threw it back in my face!"

"Did you go throw yourself off the astronomy tower? Because I made it very clear that there wasn't much else you do except _not exist_ to make it better."

"You're such a child, you know that? It was first year – get over it!"

"Right, and mentioning what happened _afterwards_ every week and using it as an excuse to _constantly antagonize me_ isn't childish at all." Sara began breathing a little more heavily. "I never asked to be a part of your life!"

"You had no right!" James growled, "To parade the the things I told around like some… sort of joke!"

" _Parade it around?_ You're such a hypocrite! You were allowed to lie to me and play with my emotions like I was some… _pathetic doll_ – you _didn't even care_ about me as a person, you listened to me tell you all that stuff about who I was, and the whole time you were just waiting to… humiliate me like I was nothing and – "

" _I confided in you!"_ James growled, "Everything I did was horrible and wrong and _was willing to do anything to make it up to you,_ but then you started insulting me in front of everyone… twisting things that I told you – "

"Like you didn't deserve it – that you were conceited and arrogant and didn't care about anything except getting what you wanted? You lied about how you felt, lied about what you were thinking, lied about being my friend, lied about how you would treat me in the future, _lied about every goddamn thing you said,_ and after treating my emotions like they were nothing you honestly expect me to believe you weren't lying when you told me about _yours?"_

"You treated me like a joke." James spat.

'You _made_ me a joke." Sara and James held each other's gaze with fierce fury. "And I guess by that time I realized _nothing you said to me_ could _ever_ be true!"

They heard voices faintly arise in the distance. Their anger was replaced by a look of fear and all thoughts were replaced by attempts to reach the Ravenclaw tower.

* * *

"Hi! I'm Sara, and this is James. We need a favor from you and the other girls in Raven – " But she broke off when James pushed past her. A winning smile spread over his face, and his eyes twinkled with the captivating charm that his confidence brought him.

"Your name's Joanna, right?" He slid his hand into hers smoothly, "I'm James. Are… are you that really smart girl with the beautiful brown hair I see sitting at the Ravenclaw table every morning?"

The first year girl's jaw dropped for a moment in shock before a glow began to brighten her eyes. She pursed her lips in a feeble attempt to contain her nervous giggle.

An _'Are you kidding me?'_ look passed over Sara's face.

* * *

"If my mother finds out that I helped a Malfoy, she'd disown me." The fourth year Gryffindor girl scoffed. She was sitting cross-legged upon the sofa in the common room, reading a Quidditch book.

"Well there's that…" Roxanne nodded before dropping her voice to whisper which no one but the three of them could hear, "Or the _entire school_ could find out over breakfast that it was _you_ who snitched to Madgewick last year on the five sixth year Gryffindors when they pulled that prank on her.' The girl's eyes flew open and her jaw dropped. "Pity… no one likes a tattle – tale, especially one who tattles on _her own house_ to _Madgewick_ for an extra mark on her essay." The girl started gaping like a fish.

"Don't be rude Roxy!" Fred slung his arm over his twin sister's shoulder, "She's going to get plenty of insults when everyone finds out! Social ostracism, nobody trusting her with anything… she's about to lead a very lonely life… it wouldn't be fair for us to be prats to her before it already happens… would it?

"Yeah you're right." Roxanne began to examine her nails with nonchalance, "I think red's my color, don't you?"

"I love red." Fred grinned.

"I…" The girl spoke up feebly, "I _may_ have some stuff I can hand over."

"Do you now?" Fred and Roxanne exchanged a look of mildly unexpected interest.

* * *

She had originally refused point blank. "No way. He's a Malfoy. I'm not helping him. Not after everything they've done to the world." Rose resisted the urge to wrap her fingers around the girl's throat.

"Scorpius wasn't even born." Rose pointed out with clenched teeth.

"Yeah, but I'm not sending out the message that I support what they _represent."_

Rose forced a laugh from her mouth, despite the vile taste it brought her.

"You think you're any better?" The girl froze. "To Madgewick Slytherins are just the same as Malfoys. You think anyone sees you as anything but that those bullying bigots? And it's not like _you,_ or anyone else here, is doing anything to change that opinion! If you sit around and do nothing, you'll always be the bullying bigots who – "

"I'm a half blood! By place in Slytherin has nothing to do with my _blood."_ A look of absolute venom seeped through the girl's sharp, powerful face. "My aunt _lost her arm_ to Fenrir Greyback. She was only 15 – she snuck out of Hogsmeade to join the fighting. But does anyone remember her as a hero? She _almost died,_ and she's just as brave as any airheaded Gryffindor or dumb Hufflepuff, but because she was a Slytherin, no one cares! She was a _hero,_ you hear me!"

Silence rang through the dormitory.

"She was." Rose acknowledged, "But no, no one remembers it." She replied honestly.

After Rose's gaze for a couple moments, the girl threw her pillow across the bed and marched to her trunk.

"We'll all pitch in. And tomorrow, when that _vile, hypocritical_ woman sees what happens, the loudest voices against her will be the fifth year Slytherins."

The other girl seated in the corner of the room snorted with derision. The girls in between them, all seemed uncertain on who to side with. Their internal conflict reminded Rose of Sara and Jenna.

"Our aunt wasn't dumb enough to fight for Harry Potter." The raven – colored remarked snidely, eyeing the blonde with disgust, "Just because Madeleine's forsaking herself for those muggle – lovers, doesn't mean we all have to. Madeleine's eyes burned ferociously at the insult.

"Look Gertrude – " She spat.

"That isn't going to change the fact that if you don't side with us, then you're siding with Madgewick." Rose leapt in. "The exact same person who will humiliate one of you tomorrow, or the day after that. The same person who'll hurt people around you – "

"If they're dumb enough to get walked over," Gertrude flipped her hair back, "Then they deserve it."

"You're vile Gertrude." Madeleine whispered. Then she raised her voice into a commanding shout.

"We're contributing!"

"No." Gerturde hissed. "We're not."

Eventually, half of the girls did and half of them didn't. But Madeleine made it her personal goal to get as many Slytherins on Rose's side as possible.

And a lot of girls looked up to/feared Madeleine.

* * *

Al was originally pissed that Rose got to enter the girls' dormitory and do all the work while he was left to stand by the stairs like a brainless git.

"Hello." Al remarked amiably, leaning against the railing of the stairs leading to the Slytherin girls' dormitory. "How are you fine ladies this evening?"

Some of the girls rolled their eyes and pushed past him, sneering as they did so. A couple lingered back with interest, particularly a second year girl with hazel curls and a slightly plump body frame.

"Hello." A warm smile spread over her soft cheeks, and Al was suddenly struck by how little of a Slytherin she looked. "What brings a Potter like you into the lair of the enemy?" There was a teasing lilt to her voice that Al liked. He explained what they needed, and he was pleasantly surprise to see her eyes light up at their plan.

"Alright. I'll give you all my stuff." She leaned closer and whispered, "And I can probably convince them too. I'll be back with some more if you wait for another twenty minutes."

"What's your name?" He asked, and little breathlessly at her closeness.

"Alia." She grinned, before skipping up the steps after the rest of the girls. She came back down less than half an hour later with a bag full of jewellery and ten other girls who 'needed extra convincing'.

While Al was thankful to Alia for everything, he felt a little betrayed when he found an "I Heart Slytherins" sign magically charmed to his back.

People were so difficult to pin down.

* * *

"No."

"But – "

"No."

* * *

"That was so _easy_!" James cackled, bouncing the bulging bag full of jewelry against his thigh as they waited for more girls the first years were bringing. "I don't know what you're doing here – if you were any more of a dead weight I'd have to carry you back to Gryffindor tower."

"They were first years!" Sara growled despite her appreciation that James Potter's fan club could do something other than twitter in the library during exam time.

"I know – just imagine the girls who've hit puberty!"

Sara rolled her eyes.

* * *

The fifth year, sixth year, and seventh year Gryffindor girls were on board immediately. Or a select few were able to convince the rest.

"Like it or not," One of the leaders told Fred and Roxanne, "He's a Gryffindor. And because Madgewick humiliated _one Gryffindor,_ he humiliated _all the Gryffindors._ It's are duty to stand up for each other, because we're _one house_ and _one family._ We can insult the people inside our family, but we'll _never_ let anyone else outside of it hurt one of us."

* * *

"What's Madgewick going to do to my mark if I participate in this… _conspiracy against her_." The Hufflepuff girl demanded, placing her hands firmly upon her hips and assuming an expression of mulish stubbornness.

"If I were you," Dominique scoffed, "I would be more worried about what _I'm_ going to do to you on the Quidditch pitch in two weeks if you don't."

"You can't do anything to me!" The girl's narrowed eyes now resembled that of a beetle's. "Professor Hooch wouldn't let you."

"Tell that to me when you're in the hospital wing. Fat load of good me getting detention will do you then."

The girl's confident façade began to wither. "You wouldn't actually do that… _would you?"_

Dominique shrugged. "Maybe. That's for you to find out, isn't it? By the way, have you seen Charlie Donaldson lately?"

"Who's he?"

Dominique grinned wickedly. "He was fifth year who cheeked me last year. I put him in the hospital wing, and I haven't really seen him around since…"

The gullible girl gulped. _That's a nice alliteration,_ Dominique thought.

It turned out not to be that hard to intimidate anyway. And many had been bullied so much that they didn't need any intimidating to be convinced.

* * *

The curvy fifth year leaned over so the two of them could get a very good look of what was down her shirt. "My rings, necklaces, earrings, bracelets… what about my virginity? Cause if you really need it… I think I could pull a few strings." She tugged a little at her spaghetti strap as said so, keeping her heavily mascaraed eyes focused on James.

The smile fell from James's lips and was replaced by a look of sheer dread. It took all of Sara's strength not to double over in laughter.

"Sorry," She suddenly couldn't help herself after she's picked up the bag full of items, her lips twitching as she attempted to maintain a fairly straight face. "We can only take things that exist." James attempted to smother his laughter into a cough.

The girl's seductive smirk melted into a sneer.

* * *

The sixth year Slytherin girls' dormitory was empty except for one raven – haired girl sitting on her bed, holding a dead rat in her lap.

"Yes?" She seethed while running a finger over the rat's face. Rose eyed it before backing away slowly.

"Oh…I was just… admiring the décor?"

* * *

Dominique sauntered into the Slytherin male dormitory, seeming completely oblivious to all the dark, brooding looks she was receiving.

"Hello boys." She leaned against the doorway casually, crossing her arms to show off her muscles. "I need a favor…"

* * *

"So you're telling me," Her voice shook with annoyance. "That you expect me to just hand over my prized possessions into the hands of an air-headed pretty boy like you, just because you've got some important daddy?"

"No!" James was affronted, "I'm saying you should do it because you'll be taking a stand against the tyranny of – "

"And why should I bother?" The third year Ravenclaw was piqued, "Look, if I do my work and don't mouth off like you Gryffindors, nothing happens to me. Why would I risk her bullying by participating in your… _statements?_ If you ask me, you lot should learn a thing or two about keeping your head down and not making too much noise. You could learn some… self – preservation skills."

"Because she'll hurt other people!" James, who had always been taught by the people around him to stand up against bullies who hurt others, couldn't even begin to fathom this level of apathy.

"I'm sorry, but that's really not my problem. I'm not about to make it my problem without a good enough reason."

"But – " Sara placed a hand on James's arm before completely shoving him aside and taking his place with a sweet smile.

"Rebecca… I heard that you're aiming for an O in potions." The girl looked mistrusting at this.

"Yeah." She attempted to appear nonchalant. "So what?"

"Well, I currently have an O in potions, and some free time on my hands after classes. I'd be willing to tutor you on anything you may need help with."

A spark lit up in Rebecca's eyes, and Sara knew she had her.

"And… I wouldn't mind helping you write your next two essays…"

"Done." Rebecca was already walking towards the stairs to her dormitory.

"So tomorrow, you'll speak up and _say – "_

"That the jewellery's mine, yes yes." Rebecca waved her hands impatiently, "Just be there in the library afterschool on Thursdays, Fridays, and all afternoon Saturdays and Sundays."

"All afternoon?"

"Is that a problem?" Rebecca glared.

"No." Sara sighed.

"Wait." Rebecca stopped in her tracks. "How do I know you won't cheat me out of the study sessions." Sara scowled fiercely.

"I'm a Gryffindor. _I always keep my word."_

"How did you know about the potions thing?" James whispered afterwards. Sara snorted.

"She was the girl whose potion blew up so badly no one could go into Slughorn's room for 2 hours. But she's also a Ravenclaw obsessed with marks. _I guessed."_

Eventually, Sara was booked with study sessions with different Ravenclaws at every spare moment for the next month. And after that, so was James, who despite maintaining an air of nonchalance when it came to studying, was second, third, and occasionally first in all his classes.

It infuriated Sara to no end.

* * *

"I hate her." A girl whispered, her eyes darting to the side with both uncertainty and eagerness. "She always hurts me, and calls me stupid and dumb… and I just feel dumb…and stupid… and useless…you know?"

"I completely understand." Rose nodded.

"No!" She suddenly glared, "You don't. I'm a _Slytherin._ If I'm not tough enough, people will walk all over me! They already treat me like garbage and…" She gazed at her hands helplessly. Rose sat beside the girl, debating whether or not to put her arm around the Slytherin's shoulder.

"We all get walked on." Rose said softly, "All of us… until we stand up for ourselves, or someone stands up for us."

"I've never really stood up for myself… they all think I don't belong in Slytherin, and I just want to _prove that I do."_

"Thinking is overrated." Rose said. "Don't waste your time with it if you have the power to _do_ what you're thinking about. Gemma, you don't get sorted based on what you are – but what you _want_ to be. And if you want to be something – whether that's smart or brave or cunning, you have the power to if you put in the effort." Gemma raised her troubled brown eyes to meet Rose's defiant ones.

"You're not alone." Rose added forcefully. "We're all standing together."

"I…" Gemma shook her head, "I'm too weak." Rose grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

"But you don't _have to be."_

* * *

"Now this is where we part ways." Sara smiled an irritatingly superior smile that both amused James and grated against his skin. He grunted moodily.

"Because you see," Sara continued giddily, "We haven't gotten all the girls yet. And no more of them are coming down, so we have to go to them. So _I,_ being the _girl,_ am the only one who _can."_

"Well," James raised his eyebrows, "You're lucky that rule isn't based on what looks like a girl, cause then you would _never_ be able to get in."

Sara paid no heed.

"It's so dumb." James complained, "You need me to get this done."

"No," She sighed happily, leaning closer with merriment twirling in her eyes, "I _really_ don't." Then she skipped up the stairs with glee. James shook his head with something _almost_ resembling fondness.

* * *

"Here's bag with a bunch a stuff I bought for my mom and sister," The sixth year Slytherin leered at her, "You can have it all… if you give me a kiss." He stepped forward with a pitiful smirk he probably thought was seductive. "And maybe a little bit more…"

"Sure!" Dominique yanked the bag from his grasp, pressed her lips to her palm, then slapped him across the face. The boy fell back unto his bed, his cheek flaming red and his eyes suddenly looking lost.

"Sorry, were you hoping for one on the lips?" Dominique tilted her head, "'Cause I know my knuckles would _love_ a taste."

* * *

"So…." Rose rocked back and forth on her feet. "Can you do it? Replicate it all?"

"Well… how much do you need?" The sixth year Gryffindor wrung his hands as he gazed uneasily at all the bags of jewellery.

"Enough to fill an entire classroom." The boy tilted his head and thought for a moment.

"You'll get me those autographs?" He finally asked.

"From my mom, my dad, Uncle George, Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny?" Rose nodded in confirmation. "Consider it done."

"Then yes," The boy nodded, "I can."

* * *

 **I'm so so so sorry. That's it. I know it's been months but... here it is! I hope that since it's super long (like 16 000 words) Next chapter will be the reaction to their prank/statement, backstory into the event that Sara/James were arguing about (that will serve the purpose of giving you all a little more depth and understanding to James' complex character), and hopefully a Quidditch game. Scorpius is also going to start developing an initiative in the school in attempts to use his situation to improve people's lives. I'll try getting this out by the end of summer. Fingers crossed.**

 **I might delete the last chapter that was just an author's note, just cause i think it's weird having an author's note chapter just sitting there, so it might suddenly say that there is one less chapter (15 instead of 16 like it is now).**

 **Please REVIEW to tell me what you think! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed since the chapter - please keep it up! LOVE YOU ALL!**


	16. Chapter 16

**_IMPORTANT -_** _So sometime in April I published the chapter with Draco and Astoria, Scorpius getting bullied by Madgewick and the Weasleys deciding to prank her. Then in early AUGUST I published a chapter with Harry, Ron and Hermione, Hagrid and Scorpius, and the Weasleys (and Sara) carrying out the prank - this was the chapter that REPLACED an AN that i posted in July explaining the future updating schedule. THIS chapter was supposed to be the reaction to the prank and a Quidditch game, but I started it off with the flashback of Sara and James' first year. Because the flashback became very long, I just published it individually as it's own chapter (primarily centered around James). I know I've been jumping between many characters in the last few chapters so I PROMISE the next chapter will be SOLELY focused on Al, Rose, and Scorpius - PINKY SWEAR. As for now though, enjoy the chapter and *try* not to be too critical in judging the characters - they're only twelve, even if they're rather mature in they're outlook on life._

 _Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling._

* * *

 ** _Flashback to the Late Spring of Sara and James' First Year (2017):_**

When the plan had originally arisen in his mind, he never gave a second thought over the possibility that it could blow out of proportion. Why would he? There was no reason to assume at that point that a harmless day of distracting Sara so Fred could prank her would wound up in a lifetime of fiercely antagonistic rivalry and mutual resentment between the two of them.

Technically, their relationship was already _supposed_ to be a fiercely antagonistic rivalry with mutual resentment. When Sara Barjati first walked into his train compartment, he hadn't spared her a second glance. He looked up just as she gave a timid smile when she asked to sit with them and he automatically assumed she would be a shy Hufflepuff, with the offhand thought that her bag of books might warrant her a rather unmemorable Ravenclaw. He did acknowledge she had nice hair, and her smile would have been pretty if it wasn't so soft an hesitant. He returned to his Quidditch book and the other people who were incredibly enraptured by his extravagant, blatantly exaggerated bragging. What came out of his mouth was a blur, and he often didn't know what he was saying until he said it. He must of said something insulting her, or probably just something vaguely mocking, but he didn't think much of it at the time. He didn't even remember turning to see that girl's face even once in the entire twenty minutes she sat there. He did recall her making some clever remark that threw him off, but his attention span had been rather narrow. But he said a couple more things, and suddenly out of the blue he was being smacked with a book. It normally would not have been strong enough to do anything but catch his attention, but it had been so unexpected that in shock he had slid out of the seat. And obviously his lack of coordination resulted in him tripping over his own two feet and sent his glasses flying right at that seething girl's feet.

When he reached over to pick it up she spun on her heel and practically stormed out of the compartment.

He remembered thinking how rude that was. Not that she smacked him with a book or sent him sliding out of the seat – no. It was that she didn't bother to pick up his glasses – that part miffed him like nothing else did.

When he looked up, everyone was either laughing openly, suppressing a giggle, or staring at the door of the compartment in shock.

If this had happened a year later, or a month later, or even a _week_ later, James would have just dusted himself off and cracked a joke that would have sent everyone tumbling back to his side.

That's what he normally did – humor was the bodyguard of all his other emotions, and he had worked hard enough to make it the only thing that people saw. By age 12, he had trained himself so well he sometimes completely forgot that it was even an _option_ to feel anything different or react with anything other than a laugh and a witty response.

But unfortunately, he was eleven at that time, and the few cracks in his façade that he had not yet sealed away appeared in that moment. His face burned as he took a couple seconds of seconds of groping around to find his glasses. When he regained himself, he was so thrown off from his plans that he had no idea how to get back on track.

James knew it would not be possible to make a reputation of himself that didn't already partially belong to someone else. He didn't expect to do anything extraordinarily unexpected or memorably shocking, but there was _one thing_ he _longed_ to prove. And that was to prove to everyone that he didn't give a shit.

That he didn't give a shit about who his father was, who his family wanted him to be, or _what the world expected him to be._

James knew that he couldn't control how people perceived him, and on the inside he couldn't control how that made him feel. But he vowed to never let anyone know how much that mattered to him. All they would see would be a boy who _loved_ the spotlight, _loved_ the attention – someone who knew without a doubt that he _belonged in it,_ father or not.

They'd see that he didn't give a shit that the person he was going to be was decided _long before_ he even realized he had a choice.

That he didn't care about how he couldn't walk down the street with his family without being photographed or talked about. He didn't care that he was a show, that he was entertainment – that he was a puppet on strings being pulled to do the things that made people laugh.

He'd convince them that he never felt scared that he would be a disappointment to everyone. Scared that He wouldn't be funny enough, or mischievous enough, or clever enough, or noble enough. That he never felt upset because _he knew_ he was a disappointment. Because he wasn't James Potter, he wasn't Sirius Black, and he sure as hell wasn't his father.

But there wasn't anything else he could be, was there?

He didn't care, and he believed fervently that if he succeeded in convincing the world of that, he would eventually be able to convince himself.

He didn't want anyone to know that he cared about all of it so much it hurt.

And the deeper he tumbled into the reality he created, the more hurt he felt that his own parents couldn't tell the difference between the truth he created and the real one.

They truly believed he loved attention too much for his own good. And yes, they had reason to be furious when they woke up to find Al's skin blue, but to be honest, they had always _expected_ him to be as troublesome as his namesakes. He grew up hearing stories of James Potter and Sirius Black, and the words of _'I wonder how bad this James will be'_ were never far behind them.

Yes, James Sirius Potter was an idiot, but technically not being an idiot would make him just as much of a disappointment as not being a hero. And he was no hero.

He was a moronic troublemaker, but it was either that or being the noble saviour of humanity, and he wasn't brave enough to be the latter.

And maybe he was a little irritated that the thought never entered his parents' mind that if he really thought he was as important as he said he was, he wouldn't need to try so hard to convince them.

But it was important to mention that he didn't hate attention. He wanted to be powerful and important and _he wanted to be remembered._ But that was the problem. He wanted to be important, but he was important because of other people, who became important by doing things he wasn't strong enough or brave enough or smart enough to do.

James wanted to be important because of _himself,_ but "himself" was his namesakes, or his father or his mother or his last name. And so his existence was based on living up to that expectation or rebelling against it. There was no room to create anything more of what was "himself", much less making it important.

He did like pranking and being mischievous and being too clever for his own good… but was that all he could be? Anything else would never compare to the people who came before him – it would leave him forgotten, and that's what worried him the most.

And he knew he did go overboard with it, when talking to everyone else. He knew while he was talking that everything he was saying was a load of exaggerated shit, and he actually thought it was rather _pathetic_ how much everyone… believed it. Like _obviously_ Victor Krum didn't offer him Quidditch lessons, and _obviously_ there would have been no _way_ for him to sneak away to Hogsmeade at night, and _no he sure as hell did not do well at school by never opening a textbook._

There were was a grain of truth to what he said – he had a very sharp mind that grasped concepts very quickly, and because of that he needed much less practise than other people did. To admit that to himself may suggest a want for modesty, but he had to acknowledge it to some extent to be honest – he was smart. He had the unpleasant inkling that this might change once he reached the higher years, but he was very good at avoiding things he didn't want to think about. But he did not write essays an hour before class began, like he said; he wrote them at night on his bed with the curtains drawn so no one would see the light. That was another good thing about him – he could operate on limited sleep. He seemed to have a inexhaustible source of energy, and the fact that it never failed to irritate people was a plus.

And this girl - who was supposed to be absolutely nothing - had suddenly reduced him back into the embarrassed, immature child he _was_ , instead of the carefree, confident person he was pretending to be. She revealed him for being the _absolute joke he was,_ and he despised her for it. Because she was _right – so completely right_ and he just didn't want her to be.

He was even more irritated when she got sorted into Gryffindor. He couldn't understand it when he thought about it even a couple of weeks later, but he hated her so much in that moment, when the hat called the word out. He was so angry at being wrong, and for her existence _making him wrong._

He wanted to ignore her so badly – one of the first and few people who _absolutely refused_ to buy into his bullshit, who _refused_ to accept the lies that everyone else did. He wanted to pretend it didn't matter what she thought, but she wasn't timid or silly or dull. She responded to his insults with words as sharp as his own, and while he may have angrily muttered the wish for her to be like everyone else, it almost… exhilarated him every time that she wasn't.

It didn't mean that he wanted to be friends with her. She was too messed up to be friends with any way.

She was practically antisocial. She seemed to enjoy being on her own, often choosing to walk around on her own, or study or read, instead of spending time with anyone else. Roxanne had told him on more than one occasion that while the two girls enjoyed hanging out together, Roxanne's attempts at forming a closer friendship were often rebuffed. Sara was busy and unavailable much more often than not, and whenever their discussions moved from the issues of the world, to their own personal desires and fears, Sara shut herself up like a clam and refused to divulge any personal emotion about herself. Sara was good at giving advice and having interesting conversations, talking to people and telling them off – but she would never let herself be _true friends_ with them. Roxanne told him that she could take a hint – that Sara was a lone wolf who preferred solitude, and she herself was fine with just being casual friends who hung out sometimes.

James that was a load of bullshit for a girl who liked to talk that much, but he never cared enough to interfere into the social life of a girl who was kind of his enemy.

Sara couldn't _deal_ with being wrong, she seemed to think she was better than everyone else, and was such a control freak. She _needed to be in charge_ of _everything,_ and was reluctant to let anyone else do the tiniest thing in group projects or endeavours, in the fear that even a _tiny, minuscule detail_ would not match her internal vision. She had anger management issues too; her comments bordered on insensitive when she was piqued. In James' opinion though, which didn't mean much to her. She was always sarcastic to the point of sometimes being hurtful, and occasionally rather cold.

There were so many ways you could respond to Sara Barjati. Hating her, admiring her… mostly hating her, whether it was out of offence or jealousy or irritation. But one thing that was impossible to do was ignore her. Which was all James Potter really wanted to do. But she didn't accept things she didn't like, and she didn't let opinions or norms stop her from saying it – which was a problem for a person like him, who was relying on popular opinion to maintain the image of the person he was.

After a month or two, he realized that while he may have internal justifications for the anger he felt, he really needed to sort of try getting his head out of his arse. It didn't work, but he hoped it was the thought that would count.

Eventually, the annoyance and distrust they felt for each other was replaced into something resembling grudging respect that neither would admit existed. Their exchange of insults had shifted from aggressive mocking to lively teasing.

James never targeted anyone for pranks except her. He picked on her in class and she picked on him back. He pranked her – a notable example being when he slipped something in her drink so the only sound that came out of her mouth for a day was baby's wail, but she returned the favour by doing things like dumping a pitcher of milk over his head in front of the Great hall at breakfast the next morning.

For the most of first year, it was a fair trade. Until mid – May.

It was Saturday morning when he dragged himself to the library, grumbling internally that this prank had _better_ be worth choosing a loud - mouthed, pre-teen workaholic over a day of flying. She was seated in the corner with two stacks of books on either side of her, scribbling fiercely over a piece of parchment, her curtain of long brown hair hanging over her face.

"Tell me something," James began as he slid into the chair across from her, feeling pleased at her sudden flinch of surprise that caused the tip of her quill to break. She shook her head slightly without looking up. "What do you think your gravestone will say when you're dead – _Hear Lies Sara Barjati, the Girl Who Sat Alone and Wrote_ … Essays? Are you always this much of a bore?"

"Only by day," Sara remarked with a nonchalant shrug as she tossed aside her broken quill and picked up new one, "I spend my nights breaking curfew to fly over the Great Lake on my broom, and explore the woods of the Forbidden Forest."

"Flying?" James laughed. "I think that would require actually being able to get higher than 3 feet off the ground without screaming." He recalled the incident when she first mounted her broom. 3 feet was being _generous._ She looked up at him and smirked.

"You believe what you want. I'm a dangerous girl at heart."

"As dangerous as a girl who spends all her time in a _library_ can be." Sara shrugged.

"A reader lives a thousand lives."

"Yeah, except their own." James snorted. "The only one that _actually matters_."

"I decide what matters in my life, and what I want with it. Nobody _else_ decides how worthwhile it is."

"Well when you die, who's gonna be with you? You're looking at a pretty lonely eternity. Heaven might not have books."

"It wouldn't be heaven then."

"Well, I'm glad we'll be in _very different_ heavens."

"Any place with _you_ is the _opposite_ of heaven."

"Your heaven is my hell."

"That's why we avoid each other." But both of them knew this was an exaggeration. There were a lot of things they did – avoiding each other just wasn't one of them.

"That just confirms my theory." James leaned forward, "That you spend all your time in the library because you _know_ it's the one place I won't be."

"Obviously." Sara snorted without looking up, "It couldn't be that I like _books_ or anything. My every decision _ha_ s to revolve around you."

"I knew it." James slapped the table. The sound resulted in a group of fifth year Ravenclaws to shush him (which was much louder than the sound he had made) and Madame Pince began giving him the evil eye. James grinned and blew the old woman a kiss while Sara bit her bottom lip to suppress a smile.

"Anyway…" James grinned while leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, "The moment I realized it I began to feel bad. Imagine this poor room, having only met someone as horridly boring as you, and never meeting someone as absolutely gorgeous and clever and talented – "

" – egotistical, pigheaded, loud – mouthed – " Sara listed with a knowing look.

" – and generous and wonderful as me! It's quite an unfair punishment, wouldn't you agree?"

"It's heartbreaking to imagine." She rolled her eyes with expert nonchalance. James was almost impressed.

"So," James continued with a dramatic flourish, "From now on, I _have_ to be in the library whenever you are. I don't think this place can _survive_ any longer if it has no one to balance out your depressing existence."

"If you want." Sara shrugged before looking up, "But personally, I only give it five minutes before you get tired of Pince _glaring at you_ like she's coming up with three hundred ways to murder you in your bed." James internally recoiled when he turned to meet the sight of Pince's crinkled unibrow and scrunched up nose (or beak, as James liked to think of it).

"It would be unfortunate for this place if I was to leave." James sighed as he turned back with a disgusted expression. "But what can I say? If I liked being glared at by females with hairy moustaches and hooked noses 24/7, I'd marry you."

"For once, I'm going to take that insult as a _good thing._ " Sara crossed something out and continued scribbling.

"Do you know that your writing is atrocious?" James eyed her restless chicken scrawl tat sprawled over the page. "It looks like you're doodling more than writing."

"If I can understand it, I don't need anyone else to."

"I think that over there is a drawing of Al's chest air." James pointed to an empty corner.

"There's nothing there." Sara furrowed her eyebrows.

"Exactly." James beamed. Sara actually lifted her head this time to stare at him.

"You came here in the library to tell me an insult about your _eleven year old_ brother, who I've never met and who will probably have more chest hair in a year than you will ever have in a lifetime?"

"I didn't intend to! But there's just something about some people that make them so… _insultable!"_

"I think I'll like your brother much more than I like you. But then again, he'd have to be pretty bad for me to like you better."

"Wanna know why I'm really here?" James asked cheerily as he leaned forward and rested his cheek on his palm.

"Professor Longbottom realized that in a day or two your head will be too big to fit through the door to his classroom and sent you to see me? Either way, you'd have to be forced."

"I am being forced. Forced by my conscious to aid the depressing damsel in distress. I'm here to be your Knight in shining armor." Sara glanced up with a frustrated expression.

"If anyone's the damsel, it's you. If I needed a knight, I'd become one myself. And I can assure you, I would be able to kick your arse."

"Maybe you'd be able to kick my nine year old cousin Lucy's arse if she was asleep, and that's still debatable, but I'm here to save you from the one person you can never escape."

"Are you planning on stabbing yourself with a sword?" Sara perked up, "If you are, I wouldn't do it here. Madame Pince would haunt you in the afterlife if you got any blood on her floor."

"If I was planning on committing suicide, I would make sure to do it on her _desk_. But no, I'm saving you from yourself." Sara stared at him with her eyesbrows raised in an "are you kidding me?" look.

"Right…" Sara gave a prolonged nod before rolling her eyes and looking back at her page.

"Because you really need it." James continued eagerly, "You do realize I'm the closest thing you have to a friend?" Sara's head snapped up angrily.

"I know you think you're _everyone's best friend,_ but that's _completely not true_ – " Madame Pince shushed her loudly.

"Telling people off and giving them homework help isn't _friendship_ , it's pathetic."

"Neither is being followed by people who only care about your _father_!" Something froze inside of James when she said the words, but Sara didn't notice is transition from teasing to She continued to scribble on her parchment, but she did but a lot more pressure on her quill, until the point snapped off. She tossed it aside with frustration and grabbed a book. She opened it and started flipping through the pages roughly. James swallowed and reassumed his cheerful chuckle, albeit a little more forced.

"Sorry." He didn't sound particularly sorry, "I'm sure you have _many, many_ friends, which is probably you're always walking around on _your own – "_ Sara slammed the book shut, resulting in Madam Pince's pinched face snapping up.

 _"_ _Miss Barjati and Mr. Potter!"_ She hissed, "If you do not learn to _contain yourselves,_ I will be _forced_ to kick you _out!"_

'Wouldn't that be a tragedy?" James muttered. Sara glared at him for a couple seconds before squeezing her eyes shut and taking a deep breath.

"If you don't want to be here," Sara seemed to struggle to remain calm, "Why don't you _leave,_ instead of getting me kicked out as well!" With that, she once again opened her book and fixed her eyes open the page.

James inhaled discreetly in the attempt to hold his frustration in. As much fun as insulting each other could be, James had no desire to waste a day with her. He would have had much more fun actually doing the pranking bit, and he had argued that Fred could distract her better because she wouldn't be so caught up in hating _him_ , but Fred had point blank disagreed with the argument that her hatred was the only thing that would distract her. Which was true. Sara was had a rather narrow focus. And she didn't let anything as _trivial as friendship_ interrupt her life.

"Because I thought maybe by spring you would be a _little tired_ of studying by yourself all the time, and you'd like to have some actual _fun."_ Sara was not placated.

"Is that how you usually convince people to spend time with you? Tell them they have no choice?" Sara looked back down, before snapping her head back up. "And my idea of _fun_ is not with you!"

 _Well neither is mine._ James wanted to snap.

"You know what I think – you don't study so much to do well – you do it because there's nothing else you _can do."_ Sara clenched her teeth.

"Sorry?" Her voice was deathly quiet.

"You're scared." James continued, "You know you're too scared to try anything new – so you just stick to your books. You know you're not _brave_ enough to do most things, so you just _read_ about them instead." Sara took a deep breath and bore holes into his eyes.

"You don't decide how brave I am." James just pushed back his chair and got up.

"You think you're brave, but you wouldn't even be able to _survive_ a day with me. You wouldn't be able to last an hour – because you know you're not interesting enough." Sara glared at him for a minute before shoving back her chair (the loud screech resulted in an eruption of some angry mutterings) and throwing her stuff into her bag as she did some angry muttering of her own.

 _Typical._ James chuckled. _Make it a competition, and she'll never back down._ Sara pushed past him so hard he stumbled a little. But then she turned to give him a icy look.

"I can deal with anything – but it's you who'll have to fork over ten galleons if you can't have at least half an hour of normal conversation with me – and insulting my study habits or social _doesn't count."_ She spun on her heel and stomped out of the library without waiting to see if he would to follow.

 _But then again,_ James 'harrumphed' in his mind _, I'm not much different._

* * *

The wind swirled around them as they walked across the grounds; the chilly silence between them didn't help with the cold slipping through their clothes. Sara rubbed her bare arms as they walked, refusing to look at James' face.

"Do you want my extra sweater?" He finally offered, scratching his head.

"I don't need your sweater." Sara raised her chin. James nodded awkwardly.

"Cool." James continued to nod, "Cool."

They roamed over the grounds in silence, listening to the wind race through the strands of rising grass.

"There's this… this tree," James cursed himself internally. He didn't want spend time with Sara in one of his favorite trees – it sounded like the beginning of a joke. _She won't be able to climb it anyway._ "It's a nice tree."

"The Whomping Willow?" Sara was unimpressed.

"No, one of the trees by the Great Lake. But this one's good for climbing. Not everyone climbs it… but it's… good for climbing." _Have I actually ever had a normal conversation with this girl?_

Sara shrugged and extended her arm in a gesture for him to lead the way.

Ripples shivered over the lake as they approached it. The grey masses rolling over the sky hung close to the water, watching their own reflections quiver and shake.

James slid his small backpack off of his shoulders and tossed it upon the ground, between the thick roots of the towering tree. But then he changed his mind picked it back up, slinging it back unto his shoulders.

"I've sat under here a couple times," Sara stepped tenderly over the scattered branches, hoping to avoid tripping or receiving a scratch, "The shade is really nice on a hot day."

"Probably." James curled his hands into a small crook on a higher portion of the trunk, and pulled his feet up into some gentle creases in the bark closer to the ground. After a couple seconds of concentrating, he moved his hand and wrapped it around the closest branch. He heave his feet up higher, resulting in a slightly spiderman-esque pose. He moved his other hand to also curl around the branch before hooking the two hands together and shifting them up the branch. Eventually he also brought his legs to wrap around the wood, his skinny frame rocking as he pulled his body up into sitting positon on the branch. His circular shaped glasses hung on the very edge of his nose, but they didn't fall off and that was all he cared about. He pushed them back up before looking back down at Sara, who seemed slightly impressed despite herself.

"You coming?" He called. She swallowed before nodding hastily. She didn't take her backpack off either.

She wrapped her tiny hands around a crook in the trunk, attempting to heave herself up despite her limited upper body strength. Her feet only rose a centimeter back off the ground before they fell back to it. She looked back up at him.

"This isn't going to be very graceful," She warned him. James shrugged.

"Who're you trying to impress?"

"Definitely not you." She agreed. He leaned back against the trunk and closed his eyes, enjoying the dance of the wind over his face.

She wrapped her hands around the crook again. She whipped a leg up to a hole higher in the trunk, resulting in a very awkward, twisted pose. She used the force in that leg to pull her other leg into a gentler crease in the trunk. After a minute of considering what to do next, she let go of the tree with one hand and used it to grab another crease closer to the branch. After struggling in this way for some time, she managed to swing her leg up to the branch on the opposite side of the trunk that James was on. Her hands moved over the bark until her arms were wrapped around the trunk in a a bear hug. She forced her last remaining strength into pulling her butt unto the branch. She grinned despite her flushed face and heaving pants.

"Hello!" She called out to the oblivious boy whose eyes were still closed. James opened his eyes groggily, but they widened when he saw her and he whistled in unexpected appreciation. "Wanna go higher?"

Sara looked down with slight uncertainty in her eyes before nodding decidedly. "Sure." It wasn't very hard for either of them after that – the thick branches were placed close together so they simply twisted their bodies around the trunk as they rose up. James scampered up through the branches faster than she did, almost slipping once but regaining his balance with nonchalant ease and a laugh. Sara proceeded by carefully considering each step, the movement of her feet being made with expert precision.

A thick piece of wood extended from the trunk before splitting off into three separate limbs .It provided an excellent spot for the two of them to sit while still maintaining a distance from each other. Sara leaned against the trunk while James' back faced away from it, but both their legs hung on either side of the wood they sat upon.

"You did it." James remarked. Sara gave a noncommittal ' _hm'._ They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"You were pretty sure I couldn't." Sara stared out at a group of birds soaring over the sheet of shifting glass.

"Yeah." James admitted.

"You _love_ making assumptions about me." She began picking at a piece of bark that was breaking off from the wood. Maybe James had imagined it, but there was a superiority in that statement that infuriated him.

"Yeah. And obviously _you've_ never done that." James chuckled. Sara paused to look him in the eye.

"I know I have. But I don't go around and force it someone's _face."_

"You don't have to." James examined the branch. "You just like sitting on your own, thinking you're better than everyone else – way too good to talk to them."

"That is not – " She curled her fingers into fists and straightened up.

"Tell me you don't think you're surrounded by idiots whenever you're in class around other people."

 _"_ _Not idiots!"_

 _"_ _Idiots._ It's obvious. You roll your eyes when anyone else makes a joke, and you think you're too smart or too good to hang out with the other girls or guys, but you keep forgetting the fact that they're all _much happier_ , and a lot less lonely!"

"What do you know about being lonely?" Sara's eyes practically spit. James' jaw dropped.

"You think I've shown you any part of myself?" James voice dipped into a harsh whisper. "I can count my friends on _one hand_."

"Oh yes, minus the _Quidditch team_ , and your preteen girl _fan club_ , and all the teachers who are tripping over their own _feet_ trying to _make things easier for you_ and – " Sara was almost tripping over her own words.

"Those aren't friends." James's voice dropped into something uncharacteristically solemn and quiet. "You said that yourself." He wrung his fingers together and rolled his shoulders in an aggressive shrug. Sara froze with her mouth hanging open, words teetering on the edge of her tongue. She swallowed them back in as she closed her lips. But James barely even saw her anymore.

"You think you know me _so well_ – _everyone thinks they know me so well!"_ He gave a sharp sigh and squeezed his eyes shut, "They meet me, and they _know_ what to expect, but… they've _barely even talked to me_! They've… we've never…I've never actually… had a friend who wasn't a Weasley! I mean, I saw people, I talked with them but I never… spent time with them. I practically grew up with Roxy and Fred… and Molly, but she usually just sat in the corner and acted better than us. But other than that… I don't think I've ever… I met muggle kids and kids of people my parents knew… but minus a couple conversations… nothing. Neither have the others – Al's always had Rose, Lily's had Hugo. Dominique and Louis have had a bunch of friends though, but that was after they came to Hogwarts. None of us have never needed anyone outside of the family… but when… when was the last time I told any of them what I was thinking? When was the last time we _talked_ about what we _though_ t – " James broke off suddenly, as if he just realized who he was with. He looked away from Sara, blinking rapidly while attempting to glare.

"Look, I know what you're thinking." He still didn't meet her eyes, "That I'm a silly little _boy,_ that doesn't know what it's like to have anything _bad_ happen to me, and I know that's _true –_ I don't know anything."

"No." Sara didn't move her body at all; she seemed stuck in her position.

"I don't know what it's like to suffer. _I don't._ I'm just silly and naïve and I _dramatize everything – "_

 _"_ _NO."_ James flinched. Sara extended her hand out, but she paused midway and then retracted it back. "It's what you _feel._ Feelings can't be wrong."

"Look it doesn't matter." He rubbed his nose. "Just forget it. I'm egotistical, remember? I have a big head and I _absolutely love_ being James Potter." James roughly yanked open his bag and pulled his notebook out. He flipped it open to a blank page and stared at it intensely.

"What's it like being James Potter?" Sara dropped her eyes to her hands, "I don't think I've ever asked."

James started fiddling with the pages of his notebook, an indescribable mass rising in his throat. He felt stupid just realizing it was there. Neither of them said anything for some time.

"Al's always hated being a Potter." James suddenly spoke up, "And he's really open with it too. But come on – who likes being named Albus? Or Albus _Severus_? The great wizard and the asshole teacher? It's not easy, and everyone knows it." James paused again.

"When I was 5, being a Potter was the best thing in the world. I liked when people talked to me, and called me brave and I _liked_ not getting in trouble for things other people would normally get in trouble for – I felt _special_. But then… it kinda set. I'm James Potter and I like attention. I like being famous. And _I do._ Sort of? _"_ He looked a little lost suddenly.

"There's no one who wouldn't _want_ to be special." Sara said.

"I live to fly. And play Quidditch. There's almost nothing I love better than racing through the air – I feel _alive._ But even that… it's a _sport._ It's _entertainment_. It's for other people to watch. I'm a… performer." James suddenly threw his head back and laughed darkly. "I make jokes and I sing songs and I make people laugh."

Sara bit her bottom lip.

"I'm either… what I'm supposed to be, what I should be, what I'm expected to be… or the exact opposite. And in case you haven't noticed… they're kinda the same thing. James Potter was a person, and so was Sirius Black, and so was my dad, and I can't be my dad, and so in between being obsessed with Quidditch and being an arrogant trouble – maker, there's nothing left for me to be." James squeezed his eyes shut, "This is stupid. I'm so _stupid._ You're gonna say _of course_ I can choose who I am and that I'd rather sit around and feel sorry for myself rather than _do anything,_ but no matter what I do, but I know I'm going to be a _disappointment,_ but I don't want to be _forgotten_ too – I am mischievious and I want to be good at it – " just Sara grabbed one his hands – she seemed just as shocked by it as he did, but she didn't let go. And they sat like that for several agonizingly long minutes, both too confused to form coherent sentences.

"I'm terrified of being a disappointment." She finally admitted, with some visible difficulty. James stared into her deep brown eyes – they were thick, viscous masses. "Mainly… because I never stop feeling like one, and once people expect me to be something, I'm only more terrified. And frustrated… because… they think that's the only part of me there is. It's the only thing I am – and so if I fail… what am I?" She eased her grip on his hand. "What do you know about James Potter? The first one?" James narrowed his eyes.

"I think you've heard enough stories about him." James chuckled.

"Tell me anyway."

"He loved Quidditch. He loved pranking people. He was extremely loyal to his friends… he would do anything for him. Everyone loved him. Except Snape – he hated Snape. He was in love with Lily Evans." James licked his dry lips, "He was a hero. He was brave. He gave up his life for his wife and son." Sara nodded.

"If we go just based on the qualities, that could be Dominique. Or Fred. Or Sirius black. Or your mum."

"He was a white guy."

"So's most of history." She responded with a cheeky grin. "And Lord of the Rings."

"He was really egotistical. Full of himself, but that doesn't matter because his bravery made up for it." James said in a slightly monotone voice.

"Aren't most teenage boys supposed be? I don't think so, but if we just go by stereotypes…"

"Well how am I supposed to respond to that!" James pulled away from her. Sara chuckled.

"Don't. Just listen." She gestured towards the notebook in his lap, flipped open to an empty white page, "Can I see that? I won't look in it." James handed it over reluctantly. She grabbed his pencil and drew an empty white bubble man on the sheet. She then wrote James Potter underneath it. Then she drew another identical bubble man on it, and wrote James Sirius Potter underneath it.

"You know that James Potter like Quidditch, he liked pranking, and that he was brave and loyal. That he loved someone and hated someone. Just like you – you like Quidditch and pranking, you're brave and loyal, and you've both loved someone and hated someone."

"Actually, I'm not very brave."

"Shut up." Sara darkened the outline of the two figures. "But that's not… that's not a person. That's just the shape – but there are thousands of people and pictures with the same shape. It doesn't let you know the color or the patterns or the texture of that shape. It doesn't let you know the actual _person_ that is. They don't know who the _first_ James Potter was, any more than they know who _you_ are."

"What else do you need to know? He was _brave and loyal._ That's the person he _was._ "

"Well…" Sara chewed on her bottom lip, "The first James Potter… what was his favorite ice cream flavor?"

"Huh?"

"Did he like sunrises or sunsets?"

"Sara…"

Did he wake up early or sleep in until noon? What did he eat for breakfast? What part of his… face or body did he secretly dislike? What part of Lily Evans did he admire? Who was his least favorite professor? What did he not like about his friends? What was his favorite color? What was his favorite book?" Sara took another deep breath.

"James Sirius Potter isn't… defined by flying, or pranking. That's just the outline." Sara darkened the outline of the figure some more, "But he's James Sirius Potter because he wakes up at 4 am and irritates everyone else when he does that, and even though his shirt's really wrinkled and he won't tie his tie right _I know_ he's one of the neatest and cleanest people I've met – besides my mother. He's James Sirius Potter because he sticks his tongue out when he's thinking… because he only eats a blueberry bagel with hot butter for breakfast, because while he brags over how charming he is he _still_ blushes when a girl flirts with him – and that's when he actually notices. He deals with anxiety by tapping his fingers, hands and feet to create some annoying rhythm which is actually kind of catchy – and he always runs his hands through his hair obsessively. And he's James Sirius Potter because while he loves flying…he's an artist too. He spends his time drawing incredible cartoons in the margins of his potions textbook, and I don't know… but I have hunch he can draw realistic pictures too."

By the end of the long rant, James' eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open. He swallowed in an attempt to regain his composure, but his mouth just fell open again.

"You noticed that?" Sara shrugged, but a tiny blush colored both her face and James'.

"I'm observant. And I have a good memory." She looked a way and scratched the back of her head. "It's just random stuff, but it makes you the human being you are… like Fred always eats French toast with maple syrup on it for breakfast, and Roxanne loves gold eyeliner and –" Sara started to ramble.

"You chew your bottom lip when you're anxious." James surprised himself, "Or when you're thinking really hard – which is a lot." James grinned, "You love eggs so much – you always eat them for breakfast, and you eat them at lunch and dinner a lot of the time too. You're proud of being a feminist, and you're always late for break fast because you always accidentally sleep in. Sometimes you only have 5 minutes to eat. You chew your nails too and you run you hands through your hair obsessively too. You write as much as you read… poetry, and maybe stories, and probably beautiful things anyone would _die_ to read. And you scribble over _everything_ – especially your hands and skin. Lots of boxes and lines and patterns running all around you. You just doodle all over yourself while you're reading or working… and you're so messy it's hilarious. Your penmanship is atrocious and I've looked in your bag to find papers scattered together all over the place."

"Why does everyone expect me to be neat? I'm capable of organizing my time and responsibilities, and my assignments aren't late! I can be as messy as I like after that!"

"It's just..." James shook his head fondly, "You're never what people… you're never what _I_ expect you to be."

"Says the boy who pretends not to know how to tie his tie so people'll think he's messy." Sara smirked and James looked away to hide his smile.

"Did he draw?" Sara suddenly asked, "The first James Potter?" James shrugged.

"I don't know. He might've."

"Well even if he did…it can't be the same." Sara said decidedly, "Because he saw a different world. What you see… it's so incredibly unique. No one is going to see the world the way you do. You experience different emotions when you see the world, so you express it in different ways. Which already makes you a different person. It isn't what the _world sees in you_ that makes you different. It's what _you see in the world_." James looked at her in awe.

"I should…" He attempted, "I should write that last part down." James ran his hands through his hair. "I wonder… I wonder what he saw… James Potter. I never really thought much into his… favorite ice cream flavour." James gently took the notebook from Sara and flipped to a new page. He started sketching an ice cream cone.

"We idealize them…and sort of forget the stuff that made them… people just like us," Sara watched him draw. His hands moved with a simultaneous grace and precision.

"My favorite ice cream flavour's vanilla." James admitted suddenly. Sara's head whipped up.

"You told everyone it was a chocolate!"

"Vanilla seemed a little too plain. I mean, would someone as _insane_ and _incredible_ as Sirius Black have liked vanilla?" Sara tilted her head and honestly considered it.

"If you do, then there's a good chance he did too." Sara said, "I wonder what other things you lied about." James shrugged with an imperceptible blush touching the edge of his cheeks, but Sara didn't notice.

"You'll just have to find out. What's your favorite ice cream flavour?"

"Strawberry." Sara admitted, shyness creeping upon the corners of her smile.

"Strawberry?" James looked mildly taken aback. "But you don't really like strawberries…"

"I know!" Sara shrugged with a chuckle, "It's so weird, but I adore strawberry ice cream! But my favorite fruits are grapes."

"Mine're bananas." Sara tilted her head and squinted.

"Yeah." She nodded, "I see it. You're a banana person."

"What on earth does that mean?" James snorted.

"I have no idea, but I just feel a love for bananas radiating off of you."

"You sense stuff about me."

"Well I don't sit around and contemplate what fruit you eat in your spare time, if that's what you're thinking, but now that you mention it, I can imagine you on a couch enjoying a banana."

"Well I sense that you're a tea person, who pretends she's a coffee person."

"Wrong. I hate both."

"You hate tea?" James' jaw dropped, "What are you? It is the most beautiful drink of humanity!"

"Tea is glorified water." She tilted her head, "Except the tea Indians drink. Chai. It has milk in it. But still – glorified water."

"So's everything! _You_ are a mass of glorified water!" Sara threw her head back an laughed. She didn't have a soft or tinkly laugh. It was powerful, and James felt warmer at the sound of it. But he couldn't forgive the comment on tea.

"Tea is a pretentious drink." Sara said, "But I suppose tea would be better than coffee."

"I hate coffee." James began energetically, "Why drink something _bad_ , which you have to make _sort of good_ by putting a heap of sugar in it?" Sara nodded enthusiastically.

"I don't understand the whole _acquired taste_ thing. If it tastes like crap, I don't see why I should drink it for another 6 months to make it better! It is not that important – I can just drink what I like!"

"I know!" James smacked his leg, "It's such an arrogant drink that think's it's better than everyone else!"

"It's like people – if a person is horrible to be around, I'm not going to force myself to spend time with them so I can _get used to them_ for another six months, because I _might_ get used to them in the future!"

"Exactly! You'll just hang out with people you actually like!"

"Exactly!" Sara echoed, her eyes bright with merriment.

"Forks or spoons?" James asked decidedly.

"Forks. You?"

"Spoons!" James had a duh tone to his voice. "You can use a spoon for everything!"

"With forks you can stab people." Sara grinned.

"Can't argue with that logic." James snorted."What's your favorite season?"

"Autumn." Sara sighed, swinging her legs, "The colors are beautiful, obviously, but there's always a couple days in the season where when the sun passes through the leaves, and they're… like… illuminated. And I love hearing the crunch when I step on the leaves scattered over the ground. And James, I _love_ the way the chilly air just seems to hold me in a blanket. What about you?"

"Spring." He replied. "I love walking bare foot over the grass, because it's _so_ moist and muddy and damp. The water just seeps through my toes ad even tickles me a little bit. And then from there I'll fly up into the sky on my broom – Sara, there is something so fresh about the air in spring! You feel more free just moving through it…" Sara tilted her head and examined him.

"I love rain…" Sara said, "I love when it's pouring and pounding..."

"And you love standing underneath it and getting absolutely drenched?" James finished with a smile.

"Yeah…" She nodded. "You?"

"I enjoy rain at times, but it's murder when I'm trying to play Quidditch, so I stick to wind. I love it when the wind is blowing so hard it feels like it's going to lift you off the ground…. Like you can fly away if you want to, without a broom." He threw his arms open, inhaled a deep breath of frigid air, and leaned back slightly on the branch, "This is my life."

"It's really beautiful." Sara murmured.

"Powerful." James corrected.

"That's the same thing." Sara smiled.

"Touché," James nodded, "I love staring out at the sky when there's a storm."

"It's even better when you open a window. It's so much louder." Sara leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes. Her hair was now flying over her face and brushing against her skin, tangling together. James had to resist the temptation to push it behind her ear; he even let himself wonder for a moment if it would feel as soft as it seemed if he wove his hands through it.

"Ok…sunrise or sunset?" He shoved the other thoughts away, hoping they'd lose themselves in the wind. They met each other's eyes and for one single second, they were in a state of complete and utter agreement.

"STARS!" They both yelled in an attempt be first, before dissolving into peals of laughter.

* * *

"And then she said, ' _Oh Sara',"_ Sara paused her high pitched imitation to take another large bit from her chocolate bar, "The poor boy just has a _crush_ on you – don't be so _hard_ on him, he's just having difficult time _expressing his emotions."_

"I do not have a crush on you." James lay flat on his back upon the grass, munching on some chocolate of his own. They had climbed down a while ago, and were enjoying the shade beneath the rustling leaves. Some of the clouds had cleared up, so some feeble rays of light were shivering down upon them. "If I had a crush on you, you'd already been in love me, because you wouldn't have been able to resist my romantic charms."

"Do your charms include that time you serenaded a potted plant?" James wrinkled his nose.

"No." He muttered.

"Very smart of you – asking out something that couldn't respond. Anything with an actual voice… or a brain… would've obviously said no."

"I was… that was a joke." James grumbled.

"Do you mean to tell me the _great James Potter_ was _pranked?"_

"So what else did that stupid seventh year say!" James sighed loudly, "I'm just _dying_ to know."

"Well there I was, telling her my woes of the idiotic boy with old man circle glasses – "

"You really do love talking about me."

"Let's pretend you didn't practically drag me out here." Sara gave him a pointed look.

"Let's pretend you're not _actually enjoying it."_ James began licking his fingers for any remaining chocolate. Sara didn't respond to that.

"And she was saying, _Oh Sara!_ " James snorted at Sara's high – pitched, squeaky imitation, "Yes the boy might've _taken away your voice,_ and turned it into _waling baby,_ but that's _alright,_ because the poor boy can't _control himself around you."_ Sara threw her hands up in the air.

"You know, I put a lot of energy and thought into irritating you. I don't like it being thought of as a heat of the moment thing."

"I would love to smack you with a book, and when she asks why I'll say, _'I couldn't control myself around him'._ I was just having difficulty _expressing my emotions."_

"I'd willingly accept a smack over the head just to hear you say that to her."

"It's a dumb thing to teach girls. Have crushes on guys that treat you like crap. _Cause that's cute."_ She rolled her eyes.

"Sara, why're you a feminist?" James rolled unto his stomach. Sara reeled away in sudden anger. James realized his mistake with a jolt, and he threw himself up as he did.

"No no no no no I'm so so sorry I didn't mean it like that not in a mean way, but a curious way, 'cause I care a lot too – I'm a feminist! My mom would disown me if I wasn't – I just thought there would be a reason why you care for, like some environmentalists have their favorite tree cut down when they're six and the experience inspires them for the rest of their life so I was just wondering if there was a backstory that – "

"James!" Sara bit her lip to suppress a laugh. He glasses had slipped to the end of his nose during his rant. "It's ok. I get it."

"Sorry." James relaxed slightly, "So… is there?" Sara shrugged.

"When I was a kid, I really hated being a girl." James tilted his head.

"That's probably the opposite of what I was expecting." Sara laughed uneasily. She shrugged again, her cheeks tinted pink.

"Stuff… kids around me said… stuff grown – ups said around me… stuff my family… my dad said around me… and just how they all treated women…in real life, in TV shows, in movies… I thought it meant being weak. I thought it was a bad thing. It meant being silly. Superficial. Not much purpose, not very strong, and not very much of anything other than pretty. And everything they did revolved around guys. The only girls who did interesting things didn't want to be girls. They always tried to be as much of a guy as they could." James' mouth was a little dry.

"Oh," James swallowed, "Oh." Sara shrugged.

"I'm not _weak."_ She said, "I'm not… silly. I'm not _weak._ I used to dream of being a boy – i thought it would solve a lot. I'd get to be thought of as strong, I'd get to be important, I'd get to be my own character in my own story, instead of a dim witted love interest or a useless cardboard cut out – which was girls seemed to be."

"And then?" Sara looked away.

"Just… stuff. I guess I've always been dancing to someone else's song, and trying to escape what you are cause of what they say is the same thing as being what they want you to be…and books." She added, "Always books. There were girls who kicked everybody's butt, and I wanted to be them. And they never tried to hide that they were a girl – they fought for who they were a lot. Always said what they thought and didn't take crap from sexist pigs. Or anyone. I started actually thinking being a girl wasn't a bad thing, and I guess I don't do things half way… so I wanted to fight for it in every way I could. Be obsessive."

"Sara," On an impulses James grabbed her hand and squeezed it, "You're gonna kick all of their sexist asses." James nodded with excitement, eagerly imagining the scenario unfolding before him, "While saying something sarcastic… and while you do it, I'm gonna be laughing at them – so hard! And I'll punch them a couple times if you're in the mood – not that you need my help." He nodded decidedly and Sara's cheeks turned a little pink.

"Right back at you Potter." She laughed softly, "James." James met her deep eyes before suddenly dropping her hand and pulling away.

"Look…" James raked his hands through his hair, "I'm sorry… about the things I said." Sara waved his words away.

"No…that stuff I said about your father… it wasn't right." James looked towards her abruptly with wide eyes.

"I didn't care."

"I don't think that's true."

"Well either way, it shouldn't matter, because if you felt it, then it's probably true, I already know that's why everyone enjoys being around me and – "

"It's not true." Sara said stubbornly, "I just wanted it to be."

"Maybe." James shrugged. "Probably is though."

"I'm saying who your father is _caught_ their attention, but _you_ were the one that _kept it."_ James began to wonder why all conversations were leading back to him.

"Sara." He interjected evenly before she could continue, "Do you feel lonely sometimes?" Sara froze momentarily before continuing.

"As much as anyone else." James nodded. Sara licked her lips and continued, "I like reading and writing and like walking around in silence, watching the world, and…" She trailed off. "I just…" She started running her finger over the bark, "I don't trust people. And that can make it lonely sometimes, even if you talk to people and have friends."

"but it's a little fun isn't it?" James smiled sardonically, "Being lonely and pretending you're not? You feel a little powerful, when no one else can tell what you're feeling?"

"Yes." Sara smirked, "Almost as fun being scared and no one realizing it. They think you're strong and… feels so delightful to know they can't hear your heart pounding or your mind telling you – "

"It's all a bad idea? Yes." James mused, "That is my favorite indeed. I laugh about it sometimes afterwards, how good I am at lying."

"I bet I can lie better." Sara smiled sweetly.

"No way. You wouldn't even think that I may sometimes not like attention. You _hadn't even considered it."_

"Well you wouldn't think that I break curfew to go flying on a broom, would you?" Sara raised her brow with a touch of sass, but James snorted.

"Yeah, cause you don't! "

"That is what you think…" She began humming a tune. James blinked before shaking his head.

"No!" James continued to shake his head furiously while covering his ears with his hand comically, "You're not gonna confuse me enough to let you win – no no no!"

Sara rolled her eyes. "You also wouldn't think I want a motorcycle one day. And a tattoo on my hip. And a pixie cut like your cousin Dominique." Se almost giggled with glee.

"Merlin woman, you're messing with the mind." James shook his head in awe. Sara reclined back unto the ground, a self – satisfied smile growing on her face.

After some time of lying there she spoke up again. "I used to get bullied a lot." She blurted out. James fingers hovered "People used to walk over me like I was trash." Sara continued, "Insult me and pick on me."

James fingered the grass, keep his intense gazes on Sara's lowered eyelids.

"How?" he whispered with confusion. Sara shrugged and smiled a little cynically.

"I wasn't the most assertive. Or the most… anything really."

"I don't believe that." James said. Sara snorted.

"No. trust me. People could drive me to tears and I still wouldn't do anything."

"No, I mean… that's hard to believe too… but I mean… I don't believe you just woe up one day and became a sarcastic badass." Sara snorted again, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"me? A badass? You think I'm a badass?" There was a hesitant hopefulness in her voice

"I didn't." James nodded, "But that just slipped out… and I just realized it's kind of true…" Sara paused.

"I really want to be a badass!" She blurted it out, while biting her bottom lip. Her eyes were shining with a slight desperation.

"I mean a smartass for sure… but… you… maybe one day in the _far… far future…_ could be a badass…" james mused. "But seriously. You didn't just magically grow a personality."

"No…" Sara acknowledged, "I always me in my head, but other people seemed to think… no, actually…. The people I know have forgotten by now. It's like… if you ssomeone something new, it doesn't take them long to convince themselves it was always like that. One way or the other."

"But when did you start… growing more… what we know you as?"

"When I was around nine. I realized no one was gonna stand up to me." She grabbed a fistful "So I became my own hero. And I liked it." Sara smirked, "I liked it very much. I love it when someone's scared of messing with me."

"Sara – I'm going to say this once, so you better enjoy it. No one would dare mess with you, cause you're powerful. And you know what… that doesn't have anything to do with talking or yelling at people. It's not even cause you're smart. It's… because you're _incredible…_ incredibly _unique._ You're your own person wit your own dang opinions – which makes you 10 times the person most grown - ups think they are." Sara sat there open-mouthed.

"No… I…" Sara waited for him to retract his statement but he just watched her earnestly, refusing to do so with his eyes. "Thank you." She managed feebly.

"Sara…" James twirled a flower between his finger, "What's your family like?" Sara's jaw tightened.

"Normal. My parents didn't save the world, if that's what you're asking."

"You're an only child." James prompted. "I know that."

"Yeah. No internal turmoil about it, I can assure you."

"You never wanted siblings?" Sara shrugged.

"Not much I can do about it, but I am a little too busy taking care of myself." Sara crossed her arms, "My mom wanted another kid though."

"And your dad?" Sara gave a sharp, sarcastic laugh.

"He didn't want any in the first place." She seemed to regret the words the minute they left her mouth.

"Lucky him." James said without thinking, leading Sara to turn towards him in confusion.

"I mean," James corrected, "if I had gotten something – someone – so amazing and smart and strong, that I hadn't even asked for or even thought of having… I'd really be a lucky bastard."

"James…" Sara wrung her hands, before shaking her head and staying silent.

"What're they like? Your parents?

"My mom…" Sara mused, "Is a strong woman who makes things happen. She's a perfectionist in everything – way more than I am cause she's also a neat freak and is obsessed with twenty other things that I never think about – and she always fights to get what she wants. We're both really stubborn, so we argue a lot. But she's… one of the most important people in my life. _The_ most important actually."

"And your dad?" Sara shrugged.

"He's… smart. Book smart. Intelligent. A really good talker."

"He… didn't want kids?"

"Well, it's kind of Indian social expectation to have kids. It's more that he… doesn't want to be bothered by them." Sara crinkled her eyebrows, "I don't know why I just told you that."

"Do you… get along?" James felt something stirring within him – it wasn't uneasiness. It was almost… protectiveness. Which was odd, because this girl was the last one who need protecting.

"Yes." Sara nodded, "Enough."

"I always thought you'd be a daddy's girl," James found himself saying, "Like my sister… I can see you running up to him and telling him about this asshole who's butt you kicked and him just smiling and saying, _that's my girl_ …"

"Yeah…" Sara smiled a little wistfully, "I would be a great daddy's girl. But either way, he's more into quiet, docile women. Who'll fetch him his slippers and make him feel bigger and stronger than he really is. Makes it difficult for my mom."

"He's sexist?" James was suddenly angry.

"Everyone in the world feels a little sexist sometimes…" Sara watched her fingers, "Just in different ways… but I suppose the things that bother you always become really obvious, whether it's racism or littering or Twilight fans."

"He's sexist." James sat there with a dumb look on his face. Sara paused, realizing her mistake.

"It's not a big deal." Sara pulled herself off the grass and started ruffling through her bag, not meeting his eyes.

"He has one of the bravest, smartest daughters in the world, but he's sexist…" James' eyes widened, "Wait… did he… does he… does he say mean things?"

"James, will you please just shut up?" She snapped.

"Is that it?"

"That's it?" Sara scoffed, "You pick a random idea after 5 minutes of discussing my life, and you think you _understand it?_ You don't need to act like you've discovered a big secret, 'cause you haven't!"

"What did he do?"

"None of your business!"

"If you tell me, I can help!" Sara laughed sardonically at that.

"Oh that's just – "

"I'm dead serious."

"No, dead Sirius is buried in the ground."

"Don't make this a joke!"

"This conversation's a joke! Just last week you tried to turn my skin blue!"

"That doesn't mean I don't care about your problems!"

" _Don't you understand that I said no!"_ James froze with his mouth open. He closed it slowly, licking his lips and nodding. He nodded for a little longer than necessary, attempting to gather his thoughts.

"I…" James breathed heavily, but Sara just started combing her hands through her hair, "Just… not me but… maybe… if you give people... the chance to be good, or kind…they'll do things that surprise you… they might be good for you if you open up to them… just a little." James looked away. "Probably not me."

"I'm not good at half way stuff." Sara replied tonelessly. "I don't know how to start, and I don't know how to stop." She shook her head, "Look… nothing's wrong. Okay? So don't dwell _please_." She sounded a little pleading at the end, but she kept her eyes hard.

"Well…" James paused, "We could just gorge on Bernie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and make fun of annoying people?" It was a feeble attempt, but he was trying.

"You mean laugh at each other?" Sara smiled weakly.

"Well I was thinking about just laughing at you…" Sara laughed and James grinned, because it wasn't okay, but all he wanted to do in that moment was hear her laugh.

* * *

"I can't believe it. I can't believe it!" Sara shook her head, her face flushed from laughing, "You actually watched _Titanic."_

"It's not my fault! Teddy and Vic were in one of their romantic phases, and since they I was just _stuck_ there I _had_ to watch it! They even had a snog session in the middle of it, and I still couldn't move!"

"Merlin, you have _no taste."_

"You watched it!"

"To sound more informed when I insulted it!"

"Who watches movies to insult them?" James snorted.

"Well who follows people they don't like just to offend them?" James paused.

"Touche…" He nodded with an impressed pair of pursed lips. "But merlin, that movie was a three hour long snooze fest."

"I know!" She threw her hands up into the air. "It was absolutely ridiculous."

"The main girl… Rose or whatever… she annoyed me. Like I felt bad for her, but I couldn't like her after she throw a billion dollar rock into the ocean. I mean… wasn't her boyfriend penniless… wouldn't the cause of poverty have touched her heart in some way…?"

"I KNOW!" Sara's eyes popped out comically and James guffawed. "She just – she just – she just…tossed it! That stupid necklace could've fed thousands of families, but _no -_ she wanted to make a statement about her six day fling with someone she didn't even know." Sara huffed.

"I still don't understand why they both couldn't fit on the stupid board." James rolled his eyes, "Vic and Teddy were just crying their eyes out and I was waiting for Rose to budge over and let him on."

"Mythbusters proved that they both could have been on the raft and survived." Sara nodded, "They did all the tests and everything."

"That's so stupid." James froze suddenly before blushing a little, "I always wondered another thing… but when I asked Vic slapped me."

"Uh huh?" Sara hesitated.

"When Jack and Rose were in that… car, uh… doing… um…" James blushed.

"Reproducing?" Sara offered with slightly pink cheeks.

"Yeah that… how the hell did the windows get that foggy? Like it looked like there was a sauna in there."

Sara thought for a moment. "I have absolutely no clue." The awkwardness prevented them from saying anything for a couple seconds before James forced himself to break it.

"What would've Rose done if she actually got pregnant and they'd lived?"

"I'm more concerned with what she would've done once she realized Jack didn't do laundry – I bet they'd have had the _shortest honeymoon in history."_

 _"_ _Honey, what do you mean we don't have a house?"_ James did an extremely high pitched rendition of the seventeen-year-old socialite. Some sixth year Ravenclaws walking by gave them an odd look, and it wasn't just because Sara and James had never been seen conversing with each other on their own as of they were… "hanging out".

 _"_ _I draw pictures of prostitutes for a living, remember?"_ Sara dropped her voice into a exaggerated low sound, " _I came to America after winning a gambling game."_

 _"_ _But where do we sleep?"_ James sounded like he was about to break out into hysterically sobs as he whirled around with his arms flailing about. Sara had to press her hands to her mouth to hold her snickers in. " _What clothes am I supposed to wear?"_

 _"_ _Don't worry, I didn't hang around to see you in clothes anyway."_ Sara chortled in what she probably thought was "masculine".

James fell unto his back from laughing so hard.

* * *

"What's the worst thing you hate about people?" James asked as he picked a green Bernie Bott's Every Flavour Bean out of the bag and held it up for her to see.

"Well first of all, grass." Sara replied. She then took it from him and popped it into her mouth.

"They always do what they're told." She continued as she began to chew it, "Most of us believe exactly what we learn, and we don't really ever question it. Whether it's racism or sexism or what they're supposed to be. We don't think for ourselves." Sara suddenly winced. "Not grass. Seaweed." She shuddered.

"You suck at this." Sara stuck out her green tongue as James made a tally mark on the score sheet under his name. Sara picked a grey one from the bag.

"You?" She asked.

"First of all, pepper. And also, they're lazy. Which is why they try to find shortcuts in understanding people. They'll look at someone's shirt, and then decide if they're responsible or not. They'll look at someone's skin, and decide whether they're trustworthy. They'll look at someone's blood and decide if they're smart. They'll look at someone's family, and decide what shirt color is their favorite. Then they'll use that to decide how well they are with potions!" "They're so lazy." James repeated. "Me especially. That's the worst of it."

"That is the worst of it." Sara nodded, "Knowing we're no better than anyone else."

"Yeah. We suck."

"We should put that on a T – shirt."

"Yeah, but instead of wearing it, we should just give it to those annoying twins in third year."

"Yeah, but first we have to write 'each other' on the bottom." Sara finished.

James sniggered, which resulted in him accidently choking on an every flavoured bean.

"Does that mean I win?" Sara asked innocently. James glared before pulling out a handful and throwing them at her.

"It _was_ pepper actually." James rubbed his nose with his hand. Sara pulled out her wand with a sinister smile on her face.

 _Oh dear…_

* * *

Nobody would have believed him if he told them that he had completely forgotten the reason he had originally dragged Sara out here. Because somewhere in between pouring his heart out and watching her get excited about how much she hated the Titanic movie and guessing the flavour of Bernie Bott's Every Flavour beans before eating them, he had… felt so at home. And so at six o clock when she glanced at the darkening sky and suggested them heading back for dinner, it hit him upon his head like a bag of bricks. His heart beat so hard as they dusted themselves off, praying toevery God imaginable that they would still be laughing with each other in this way after an hour.

"James… what are we?" She asked as they collected their stuff.

"Is that another philosophical question, cause 'what's the purpose of life' kind of sucked most of it out of me." James was desperately hoping Fred hadn't done much and that Sara would only roll her eyes when she saw it. _She'll laugh._ James tried to convince himself. _She'll laugh, and I'll laugh, and then we'll make more fun of romantic movies while we tease each other._

"No…" She gestured between them, "What are _we?"_

 _"_ I… I have no idea." James sighed. "Were we ever really enemies?"

"For the first month, yes." Sara nodded decidedly, "I called you my arch nemesis to my mother, so that sort of sealed the deal."

"Yeah… I did that too, except I referred to you as the bane of the universe I was responsible for destroying to protect humanity."

"Well you always did have a flair for dramatics." Sara rolled her eyes. "But I did mention something similar to my dentist once."

"After the first month though?" Hopefulness slipped into his voice.

"I…" Sara swallowed,

"Were we ever friends?" James pressed. Sara shrugged slowly.

"Maybe… maybe for the last couple of hours." Sara looked away.

"I'd like that!" The words shot out from James' mouth. Sara turned back and searched through his eyes. She only saw earnest honesty.

"Would you…?"

"Yeah." James sounded a little desperate, "I really would."

"Then…" Sara reached forward and tenderly touched her hand to his shoulder "Maybe we could leave the archenemy stuff as… our 9 – 5 weekday job."

"The world does need saving." James laughed nervously.

"We could… take some time off on the weekends to not… hate each other."

"Yes!" He breathed with relief.

"But if you interrupt me while I'm writing an essay, I will kill you." Sara's tone became businesslike.

"I'm sure we can schedule that in." James snickered.

* * *

James wanted to smack Fred. Then punch him. Then throw him off the North Tower.

Because the entire common room was decorated with pictures of Sara, all with moustaches and talons and a series of other unflattering depictions. There were captions written all of them (like "The Harpy Gives Birth" under a picture where Fred had drawn her throwing up) and some of them had mocking notes written beneath. They were rather unprofessional and childish – an act that would normally make Sara snort and roll her eyes rather than truly feel offended. But the problem with this was not the end, but the means James had used to get there.

Sara viewed it initially with confusion, and she even turned to James in the first moments of uncertainty. Suddenly, realization began to flood through her eyes. She turned again to meet his, searching for confirmation. James opened his mouth helplessly, but couldn't force anything from his lips as he stared at her brown orbs narrowing and her eyebrows crunching together and a slight gasp escaping her mouth. Sara's jaw dropped in what James realized was the first time he had ever seen her truly shocked. She closed her mouth and swallowed, twisting her lips into closed mouth sneer.

"Well." She watched him with crisp coldness, "That must have taken some time."

"Fred…" James breathed.

"Must have spent a lot of time on it." Sara nodded with exaggerated understanding. "He is very diligent." Sara even smiled cheerily with all her teeth shining ominously for a moment, and James felt his stomach drop 10 feet within himself.

"Sara, I swear, I thought – " James eyes were wide and pleading, but Sara barked with dark amusement.

"Yeah, I thought a lot too that I shouldn't have." Sara gazed around at the others in the common room, some of who were realizing the tense atmosphere shifting into the room

"Great day for it." Sara raised her voice slightly, which quivered with an emotion James couldn't decipher, "With the Hogsmeade trip… all the prefects and older students are gone, no one to see… but of course you _do_ want them to see, right? A nice surprise when someone comes back with…" Sara's voice dropped into a montone "

"I'll take it all down before dinner," James promised, "Then I'll tell professor Longbottom what happened, and I'll take the detentions for _months_ if I have to. I'll do your essays and assignments and I'll beat anyone up if you ask me to – Sara, I promise _I'll do anything you want._ I don't care if it gets me in trouble or if – _"_ Sara was barely listening.

"Why? "You think I care? You think I give a _damn_ what anyone some random stranger or enemy says about me? _I don't care what you say about me!"_ Sara's voice was almost a whisper, but it felt like she was screaming. "You're not my friend, who could actually _be able to hurt me if he wanted!_ I don't care what you say." She spat the words out. James stepped forward, reaching out to take her arm but Sara snapped it away.

"Don't," Sara continued to step away, her face twisted with fury. "Just _don't."_

 _"_ _Sara…"_ James sighed, "I know it may not mean much… and you can hate me for everything… but I'm _so sorry_." More and more people were beginning to gawk and whisper at the scene.

"No." She breathed, "You're really not." James didn't respond, because he had absolutely no clue on how to change her mind.

"So…" Her two rows of teeth grinded against each other, "It was all a… coordinated plan?" She almost giggled, which was the most terrifying part of it all.

"it…" James sighed, "It…

"Was." Her breaths were furious exhalations, "It was. It was a little _plan_ you both came up with because you thought it would be _so much fun."_ Suddenly she her eyes widened, "Did Roxy… Roxanne know too?"

While it may seem odd, Roxanne often did have some vague idea when Sara and James were about to do something mildly emotionally dangerous to each other. She usually just rolled her eyes and reminded James of the bruises he'd receive if he'd carry out his ridiculous plan. James never listened, and neither did Sara probably, but both considered Roxanne a neutral third party in these situations.

"Barely." James said.

"She did." Sara nodded her head, "Of course she did. You all thought it would be _so funny,_ feeding me this bull –headed story about how you're _lonely,_ and how everyone judged you and how you _hated being harry Potter's son."_ She almost yelled. James' blood ran cold, because at that moment all the conversations and laughter died down into shocked silence. He felt blood flow to his cheeks, and his body was suddenly itching to run away from everyone's amazed eyes.

"You know… you _love it_ don't you?" Her eyes were burning bright with a crazen fervour he hadn't seen before, and his released a new flood of emotions into his blood. But she paid no heed. "You love being _entertainment_ , because there's nothing else you _can be_. You love it when people look at you, and laugh at you, and you _love being famous_ because you're a _selfish brat,_ who thinks everything's about _him_ and what he likes and how much better than everyone else he is because he's _James Sirius Potter."_

"Shut up." James voice dropped into fierce whisper.

 _"_ _No."_ Sara stepped forward and gazed straight into his eyes. Brown met hazel; two irises filled with so much outrage and so much betrayal all at once. "No, because I'm right, I'm so right I don't know how I could have been so wrong before."

"You didn't know _shit_ then, and you don't know _shit_ now!" His voice spiralled up, shocking everyone in the room, all who had never seen James anywhere near angry. Sara flinched, but she didn't budge. "You're a child, Sara Barjati, thinking everything's about you and how you feel. You don't care how you make anyone feel because no matter what happens you _have to be better than them."_

"Well I never bothered pretending. Never bothered pretending someone was my friend, never bothered pretending I cared one little bit about them!"

"Like you cared about me." James snarled.

"No. I don't and I never will. And no one _ever could_ because no one could love or be anywhere near a self – absorbed liar who was born to something he will _never be good enough to deserve."_

"No one could ever survive being around an who's too busy worrying about how some 5 year olds in the past _bullied her,_ thinking people hate her because she's a silly _girl,_ when it's really because you're so boring and talentless you can only _pretend to write you pathetic rhymes_ to pretend you're thinking anything new or interesting!"

 _"_ Whereas you're too busy pretending to _draw_ your lopsided _doodles_ while you pretend to be a lonely artist who no one _understands_ because you're _so misunderstood – you're a weak – willed who could never be interesting or brave or smart or talented on his own_ – but that _doesn't matter to you._ You're nothing, and you will never be as good as your father, and you'll never even try to be – "

"How dare you…?" James growled.

"Easily." Their bright red noses were almost touching, and they could feel each other's hot breath blowing upon their skin.

"I hate you so much." James voice trembled, barely above a whisper, "Because you're weak!" James' stomach twisted as a light flashed through Sara's eyes. "You're weak and silly and no wonder your daddy doesn't want you – because who in the world _would?_ "

Sara slapped him. Or tried to. It wasn't very hard, but the ferocity in it left a sting in places other than James' face.

When he turned back towards her, James heard something that resembling a choked up sob, but she was already gone. After a few moments, he was too. The left a common room covered with Sara's photos and a crowd of gobsmacked Gryffindors. The tale spread over the school like wildfire within less than an hour.

* * *

"I don't care that you two are first years." Disappointment was carved upon Neville Longbottom's face. "Because for some idiotic reason, you are the two students the most people, even in the years above you… look up to reference on how to act."

James sat slouched in the chair in front of them, his head resting in his hand, boredom swirling in his eyes as he rolled them. Sara's back was high and erect in the seat beside him, but she kept her hard eyes fixed upon the door Professor Longbottom's door. He was normally her favorite teacher, and he had a soft spot for her he didn't have for anyone else, but he was one of the few teachers who didn't let Sara off easy on her mouthing off and rebelliousness because of her marks or charm.

"Holding a screaming match in the Gryffindor common room…" He rubbed his face with his hands, "Don't think I've forgotten Fred's redecorating session – but all of this is behaviour that is so _beneath_ you two intelligent and clever – "

"Just hand us our detentions." James exclaimed loudly over his professor. Neville shook his head in disapproval. "We really don't care what you have to say about getting along. We never will."

"James." Neville sighed, "I expect so much more from you."

"Don't." Sara snapped, "Because you're just wasting your breath. There's nothing you can do about us. We'll clean out the trophy room every week if you want it. But not much else is gonna happen."

James nodded stiffly. Neither turned to meet each other's eyes. Neville just stared, completely at a loss for how to clever students could be _so blind_ to their own actions.

"What do you two see when you look at yourselves?" There was almost a sense of tired defeat in his voice, "Two smart, clever individuals? Strong? Brave? Because right now, you to are the opposite of Gryffindors." _Don't worry._ James thought. _I already know I'm worthless. Sara made sure of that. "…_ You're just _children,_ who don't know the first thing about each other – but you still continue to judge each other as if you know anything." James practically barked with laughter.

"Trust me, it wasn't worth trying." James muttered. Sara scoffed at that.

"if you consider _lying_ for your own _entertainment_ as _trying."_ Sara used finger quotations for the last word.

"I'd do anything to make that up to you!" James growled, "But you don't care to take me up on the offer – you'd rather insult me and parade my secrets to the _entire common room."_

"Yes, cause you were obviously _s against_ involving the common room in your pranks! You lied – you think I trust you now?"

"Fine then – we already said there's nothing we can do!"

"Fine!" They spun around in their seats so they were once again facing away from each other. Neville just squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his temples.

"One month of detentions." He sighed, "You'll do them separately and alternate. That includes cleaning the trophy room, being teachers' personal aides…" He continued to drone on.

Sara and James pushed past each other as each one tried to get out of the room first.

"God I hate you." Sara whispered with fervour.

"Don't worry." James quipped angrily, "He's not my favorite person either. But you're worse."

And that set the next 6 tumultuous years in motion.

* * *

 ** _REPEAT OF THE AN AT THE BEGINNING - - - - - - - IMPORTANT -_** _So sometime in April I published the chapter with Draco and Astoria, Scorpius getting bullied by Madgewick and the Weasleys deciding to prank her. Then in early AUGUST I published a chapter with Harry, Ron and Hermione, Hagrid and Scorpius, and the Weasleys (and Sara) carrying out the prank - this was the chapter that REPLACED an AN that i posted in July explaining the future updating schedule. THIS chapter was supposed to be the reaction to the prank and a Quidditch game, but I started it off with the flashback of Sara and James' first year. Because the flashback became very long, I just published it individually as it's own chapter (primarily centered around James). I know I've been jumping between many characters in the last few chapters so I PROMISE the next chapter will be SOLELY focused on Al, Rose, and Scorpius - PINKY SWEAR. As for now though, enjoy the chapter and *try* not to be too critical in judging the characters - they're only twelve, even if they're rather mature in they're outlook on life._

 ** _EXTRA AN FOR THE END OF THE CHAPTER - - - - - - - - -_** I'm really scared cause i don't know how any of you are going to react to this chapter. Soem of you might hate the characters, blame one character over the other, or think they're a little too mature in how they view life. But I just hope that you can read it with an open mind - understand that they're both rather lonely people who never confide how they feel to anyone, so they both feel very betrayed by each others words and reactions - and they're argument in front of the common room was very humiliating for both of them. And when it comes to their conversation - I think personally that they would be mature enough to have that serious of a conversation - cause they've been thinking about these things for a long time. Next chapter I promise will be based on Rose, Al and Scorpius, but I hope this chapter was a welcome change that surprised you a little. PLEASE REVIEW!


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